


Twelfth Night, or You Will What?

by westernredcedar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Off-screen Character Death, Shakespeare, Written pre-DH, booze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-15
Updated: 2007-08-15
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westernredcedar/pseuds/westernredcedar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night", set in slashy post-war Potter AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> Dramatis Personae is at the end, because if you know Twelfth Night, this will give away surprise pairings, etc., but feel free to look if you want to know ahead of time.  
> Thank you to dizilla and blpaintchart for the beta help.

They all felt shipwrecked.

The war had been over for two years, but peace was proving to be just as challenging.

_“Now is the winter of our discontent,_ ” thought Severus Snape, moody and alone in his large study on the second floor of 12 Grimmauld Place. _“Grim-visag’d war hath smooth’d his wrinkled front; And now…”_

And now.

He hung his head and closed his eyes.

* * *

No one would have believed the clause in Dumbledore’s will was authentic, but he had placed some of the most unbreakable truth and binding spells on it, eventually convincing even the most skeptical. _I, Albus Dumbledore, leave leadership of the Order of the Phoenix to Severus Snape, in full knowledge that he is the person responsible for my death. This is my last, and most important wish._

Acceptance of this final command from their fallen leader was hard, no, near impossible for the members of the Order who had quickly written off their comrade as a traitor and murderer. But Severus’s subsequent leadership and intense commitment to the cause had earned him grudging approval from most. After the war was over, Severus suggested the surviving Order members shelter in the relative safety of 12 Grimmauld Place, where many felt secure, fearful of the last desperate rogue Death Eaters who were still hunting them. The house had become an island of safety in the uncertain storm of the post-war.

They had all lost someone.

The magnitude of Severus’s loss was minor in comparison to some, but the ache of it was an ever-present emptiness in his chest, a missing beat in his heart.

The first year, he had thrown himself into the work of hunting down the Death Eaters, personally capturing three of them. It was distracting and gave him grim satisfaction. This year, though, he had been spending more time at the house, and found himself distracted by something else entirely. The boy- no- the man who lived.

Harry Potter had taken refuge in the upper rooms of 12 Grimmauld Place, the same rooms where his godfather, Sirius Black, had spent his last year. No one could deny that Potter’s losses had been the worst, the changes in him the most profound, the tragedy of him the most deep. Any witch or wizard on the street could tell you at least three people that their hero, Harry Potter, had lost, but they didn’t know some of the others, at least six other people close to him that had died. He had locked himself in, quietly mourning, and communicated with only two people, his friend, Hermione Granger, and surprisingly, Draco Malfoy, who seemed to have attached himself to Harry in the hard days at the end of the war. They came and went from the sad rooms each day.

Severus was able to see the reclusive man once a week when he appeared briefly for his apparition to the graveyard where his loved ones were resting. Grief had changed him, Severus noticed, hardened his face, hunched his shoulders, taken away the last signs of the cocky strut that had so incensed him when Potter had arrived in his classroom so many years before. For the first time in two years, Severus was finding himself drawn to someone. Those bright green eyes visited his dreams, which grew more pleasant, less haunted by that other face. In fact, he discovered that solitary hours in contemplation of the troubled man upstairs became his favorite pastime. He tried not to let the twinges of guilty disloyalty color his fantasies. Remus was dead, he was gone, and, with predictable, aggravating kindness, he would want him to be happy.

As the weeks passed and those green eyes frequented his mind more and more, Severus realized what he wanted. He wanted Potter.

* * *

“What country is this?” asked Remus Lupin, waking, disoriented.

“We are still in England, mate, as far as I know,” replied the red-haired man across the room. “You have been on the run for a long time, haven’t you?”

Remus rolled over on the sofa. It was the first time he had woken up in England for almost two years.

Charlie Weasley was sitting across the room from him, writing rapidly on a long parchment.

When he had decided it was time to come home, Remus thought carefully about whom to approach first. His friendship with Charlie, which had blossomed during the last year of the war, had been stable and comforting. Charlie was remarkably non-judgmental.

“What are you writing?” asked Remus, stretching.

“Report for the colony, I need to get back there tonight,” responded Charlie.

“Oh.”

“You’re looking less peaky after your rest.” Charlie’s words were kind, but short. Remus could hear the uncertainty in them.

“Charlie, I will never be able to repay you for this. I would have understood if you had kicked me out on the street, or called the Ministry.” He had appeared, unannounced, on Charlie’s doorstep late the night before.

“Listen, mate, I’m glad you’re here. Until last night, we all thought you were dead, or lost, or….” _Or that you had run off with the Death Eaters, a traitor._ Remus heard the words, even though Charlie held them back. He could understand. The last anyone had seen of him, he was storming the Ministry with a pack of werewolves led by Fenrir Greyback, during the final days of the war. Many assumed that he had been working as a double agent. He was still wanted for questioning by the Ministry. Only Order members knew he had been sent to the wolves by Dumbledore, had any reason to believe that he was loyal. But then he had disappeared.

“Where have you been? It’s been years. You were too knackered last night to say much,” Charlie continued.

“Around,” replied Remus. “Never stayed in one place too long.”

“Ah.”

It was silent. Charlie’s eyes were fixed on the paper in front of him.

“So…can you tell me what happened?” he asked at last. “You know…to Bill.”

Remus sighed. He thought he’d have a moment to get his bearings before talking about Bill. He had decided to come back, so he would have to do it, revisit that last, horrible night. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t know for sure, Charlie. I lost sight of him during the fight. We had a plan, had done our job well, and a contingent of wolves were secretly with us. That is why the battle was a victory in the end. The wolves turned on each other. Bill and I were planning to meet and regroup, but I didn’t get to the rendezvous point in time. When I arrived, he was gone.” Remus did not know how to describe the chaotic scene to Charlie, the wolves tearing each other apart, terrified Ministry workers running to apparition points and floo entrances, some bleeding, some screaming, the smoke from magical fires clogging their lungs, the flashing lights, the explosion.

“After it was over, I couldn’t find Bill, couldn’t find anyone, death was all around me. I just walked away. Didn’t look back. If Bill was gone, there was no one at that time who could prove that I was anything but a traitor.”

“They never found him,” Charlie said quietly.

“I know.”

The silence that fell between them was thick with regret.

“Charlie, I blame myself for what happened to Bill. I led him there. I let him down. But I swear, I was working for the Order to the last moment, and if I could switch places with him now, I would,” Remus stated. If he could not win over open-minded Charlie, he knew he had no chance with anyone else.

Charlie paused for a moment, looking appraisingly at Remus. “It was war, Remus. People died, a bloody miserable number of people. Don’t blame yourself. I never doubted you.”

Remus let out the breath he had been holding.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Remus said. “Listen, I don’t want anyone else to know that I am here,” he continued. “I will find a way to let everyone know I’m back, when I am ready.”

“They won’t hear it from me,” replied Charlie, giving Remus a firm pat on the back. “I’ll be in Romania for several weeks, probably out of contact in the wilderness for most of that time. We are tracking a new group of wild dragons that are wreaking havoc in the mountain villages. You’re welcome to bunk here for a few days if you need to, while I’m away.”

“I cannot thank you enough, Charlie. You’ve rescued me,” Remus replied, a thin smile touching his lips.

* * *

Fred and George Weasley visited at 12 Grimmauld Place almost every day. The Wheezes were selling well, business was booming, they were very busy, but it was important for them to check in at headquarters regularly. They tried to bring some levity to the gloomy house.

“It’s unhealthy for all those blokes to be together, moping about the place,” George noted as they approached the door.

“What would they do without us?” Fred replied with a grin.

George opened the front door a crack and stuck his freckled face through.

“Oi! Anyone home?” he called. Happily, the portrait of Walburga Black had finally been removed from the hallway a few months before, so the only reply to their shout was, “Fred, George! I’m here,” from the kitchen. Hermione stepped out into the hallway, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She smiled the tired but sincere grin that the twins had come to expect.

“Get that in here,” she said, pointing at the bag carried under Fred’s arm. “I really need a pint.”

Fred and George followed Hermione into the warm kitchen and started pouring ale. The three of them had taken to having this evening tipple right after Ron’s death, as a time to be together and talk about him, when Hermione needed to and no one else but the twins could. It had been so successful in lifting all of their spirits, however, that they kept the date regularly. They knew it was a bright spot in Hermione’s week. But the two boys could be wearing on her patience, and over the last few weeks, they had been.

“You two need to give it a rest with Ginny you know,” she said. “Harry is just not ready to see her. He is not ready. Won’t be.”

“Aw, Hermione, they were such a great pair, though, back in the old days. And we want him back. She’d draw him out, make him fun again,” said George, taking a long pull on his ale.

“Besides, you know Harry should be a Weasley someday, Hermione,” added Fred with a wink.

“You need to let him be. He’ll come out when he is ready. Pushing Ginny on him is only causing him to retreat further, I think,” Hermione added, sipping ale. “Your thrashing loudly around the hallways here after drinking all evening isn’t exactly endearing you to him either.”

“Oh, easy for you to say, with your head buried in your own pint,” George retorted.

“Hermione, try this,” Fred said, changing the subject. He pulled a small vial of liquid from his pocket. “New prototype.”

“Do you think I’ve lost my mind, Fred?” asked Hermione. “I know better than to voluntarily try a prototype from you.”

“Please?” whinged the twins, puppy-dog eyes pleading.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Will it hurt me?” she asked.

“Cross-my-heart, no,” said Fred, holding the vial out again. “Just have a sip, we’ve done it loads of times.”

“Oh, now I’m completely confident,” said Hermione sarcastically. But they knew she did not have much entertainment in the gloomy house. She gave in, grabbed the vial, and took a small sip. The twins looked on, and gave each other a wink.

“So, Hermione, I’m going to run upstairs and bother Harry about Ginny, all right?” George asked.

“Non, il est plus triste….” Hermione grabbed her throat and glared at the boys. “Qu’est que…? Je ne parle pas francais!” she yelled.

“You do now,” Fred replied, grinning. “It’s for our new Language Lollies. What do you think?”

“As-tu un contrepoison?” asked the skeptical Hermione, eyes narrowed.

“Bien sur,” replied George. “But are you sure you want to take it? It’s quite a romantic language, you know.” He tried to put his arm teasingly around her shoulders. She elbowed him in the ribs.

“Le contrepoison, Monsieur Weasley,” she demanded, holding out her hand. Laughing, Fred pulled out another vial, and handed it to Hermione, who took a quick sip.

“Why do I let you do that to me?” yelled Hermione, as the antidote took effect. The twins continued to laugh, and she found she could not stop herself from smiling.

“All right, very clever, boys,” she said.

Fred refilled her glass with a smile. “A success! Bottoms up!” he said, and didn’t even blink when George stood up, leaned all the way over, and flashed his bum.

“Not you, George,” said Fred, and Hermione hid her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter.

* * *

Remus spent the day looking around Charlie’s flat for the item he needed.

He had been brewing the polyjuice for the past month, making sure that he would have an adequate supply until the time he no longer needed it. If that time ever came.

His guilt at causing Bill Weasley’s death was overwhelming. He had drafted Bill into spying with him amongst the werewolves, had pulled him away from his home and his family, had created the plan for sabotaging Greyback’s attack on the Ministry, and then had failed to fulfill his part of the plan. Bill had expected him to meet up with a group of reinforcements, and Remus had been too late. Now Bill was dead, and he lived on in guilty agony.

He had shut his heart down for the last two years, the effort of forgetting those he’d left behind an exhausting daily exercise.

The plan had occurred to him suddenly one evening as he ate a solitary meal in Prague. He would need to return home.

Finding Charlie’s Weasley family scrapbook was not too difficult. Molly had made one for each of her children three Christmas’s ago. The first pages were just as Remus remembered when Charlie had shown it to him: a snap of each newborn Weasley next to a tiny footprint. He flipped further back, hoping his memory was correct. It was there, long locks of red hair, next to a photo of Bill, hair trimmed just above his shoulders, and Charlie holding a pair of scissors and a long ponytail. “Haircut!” Molly had written in large letters on the page. Bill had been trying a new look for his wedding. Before. Before Fleur was killed and Bill was killed, and…

Trying not to dwell on the faces in the photo, Remus pulled the hair out of the book and carefully dropped it into the small pouch he had prepared.

The Weasleys would get at least one of their sons back, Remus thought.

* * *

“Ginny!” Fred and George exclaimed together, standing to welcome her to the kitchen.

“How’s our favorite sis today?” asked George, messing up her hair. She shoved his hand away.

“Your only sis, and miserable, as you asked,” replied Ginny, plopping down on one of the benches and grabbing a bottle of ale.

“What the matter, Ginny?” asked Hermione.

“Why am I still here, pining after a man who hasn’t even been willing to see me for months?” she took a hefty swig off her bottle.

“Chance to see your favorite brothers regularly?” offered Fred.

“Not likely,” replied Ginny.

“We think you should stick it out, Ginny. You’ll wear him down,” said George. “You’d be so good for him.”

“I’ve told you both, Harry will not be ready to see her any time soon,” Hermione said. “You are right, Ginny. Don’t torment yourself any further. I’m saying that as a friend.”

Fred grabbed Hermione from behind and covered her mouth in playful disagreement. “Don’t listen to her Ginny, she just wants to keep Mr. Gloomy all to herself up there. He needs you, you’ll cheer him up.”

Ginny frowned and the twins knew that she was preparing to disagree when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

* * *

Remus rapped on the familiar door of 12 Grimmauld Place, behind which so many hard moments in the war had taken place, where he had lived for two years. He was a stranger here now, not even wearing his own face, but the feeling of coming home was unmistakable.

The large door swung open.

Remus almost collapsed, but found he was able to grab the doorframe and right himself without incident.

Stern, dark eyes looked out at him from within a tent of black hair.

“Yes?”

Oh, the voice, the resonant, thick tones, that Remus had played in his mind for two years. Daring to think of Severus Snape had been death while on the run. Now that he was here, in his presence, he was not sure he could hold himself up, keep himself from falling into his arms.

The black eyes softened fractionally in recognition. “Bill Weasley?” Severus asked.

Remus did not trust his voice. He nodded.

“Come in,” he said, giving a furtive glance up and down the street and ushering Remus inside.

In the hall, Severus stopped him, looking at his face with curiosity. “You are alive,” he stated. “That is remarkable.”

Remus’s cleared his throat. “It’s been a long time.”

“Where have you been?” Severus asked.

Remus was not able to answer, because at that moment, three red heads peered out of the kitchen doorway, staring down at the two men.

Everyone was still.

“It can’t be,” said Ginny.

Fred and George walked out slowly. “Bill?” asked Fred, incredulous.

“Fred. George. Ginny,” said Remus. He was so pleased to see the familiar faces, feel the shocked joy that was shining off of them like a warm blast of sunlight. It was just as he had hoped.

George was the first to run. He threw himself at the image of his lost brother, wrapping Remus in a tight embrace. Fred arrived next, and piled onto the hug. Ginny stood back, staring at the scene before her. When the boys finished their hugs, she stepped in to claim hers. She whispered, “You’re alive, you’re alive,” over and over in his ear. It occurred to Remus for the first time what he had let himself in for.

* * *

The reunion went on all evening.

The Weasleys stayed for a welcome home supper, and Hermione and Draco cooked up a lovely spread. Remus sat calmly in the center of the storm of attention, covertly sipping polyjuice every hour, trying to focus on the happy faces around him.

All he wanted to do was stare at Severus. He sneaked a glance his way whenever he could, drinking in the familiar flow of his robes, his impatient heel tapping, his trimmed fingernails. He could not get enough, wanted to bask in these details, but he was there for something else entirely.

He told the assembled group his prepared story to explain Bill’s absence- he had been hit by a memory modifying spell during the battle and had wandered away, unsure of who he was. Only in the last few months had he started to regain his memory, and realize who and what he was. He had been living as a Muggle for two years.

Everyone was awed and impressed by his story, but seemed to accept it. Remus was relieved.

“What are your plans now?” asked Ginny. “Do you need a place to live?”

Remus nodded.

“I may have a job for you,” said Severus, “if I recall your skills correctly.”

* * *

Severus put Bill to work immediately. He was good with money, learned during his years at Gringott’s, a skill sorely lacking amongst members of the Order. Severus could acknowledge that even he was not the best person to run the large budget for the household, as his frugal nature tended towards never buying anything, and then running everyone out of food and toilet paper.

He set Bill up at a small desk in the corner of his study where it was possible for him to work quietly, but ask questions when necessary.

Severus remembered the oldest Weasley from his years at Hogwart’s. Brazen and flashy, he had swept through the school like a male veela, turning heads, impressing professors. Severus was able to stay professionally immune. There was enough of a hint of Sirius Black around Bill to put Severus off forever.

This new version of Bill, however, older, calmer, unassumingly intelligent, sporting only a small stud and not the gaudy fang earring of his youth, this was a man Severus could stomach. For a Weasley, they were getting on famously. Severus had to admit to himself that he was lonely for friendship. His years of mental preparation to accept an isolated, solitary life had been shattered when he had committed to Remus, and now he was content to have a regular companion again, even if he was just a curse-breaker turned accountant working quietly in the corner.

“Are the receipts for this month in order?” Severus asked at the end of their first week.

“As far as I can tell, if everyone has turned them in,” Bill responded from his desk.

“Anything out of the ordinary that I need to address?” asked Severus, standing and walking over to where Bill was seated, looking over his shoulder.

“No. Well, a surprisingly high budget for butterbeer and chocolate frogs.”

“That’s Potter,” Severus replied, and was horrified to feel himself flush slightly at the thought of the man upstairs.

“He sits in his room drinking and eating chocolate?” Bill asked, with a pleasant cynicism that Severus appreciated.

“He is quite sullen. I hear his infernal pacing at all hours, and, of course he utterly refuses to assist with any real decisions about strategy.” Severus felt his ears redden. He tried not to speak of Potter to anyone. “I tried to speak with him about The Death Eater cell in Dublin last night, but he refused to even see me. He has ideas quite above himself these last two years. Well, he always was above himself.” The heat now filled his entire face.

Bill noticed. “Se…Snape, are you…blushing?”

“Don’t be a fool, Weasley,” Severus snapped.

“You have mentioned Potter a number of times this week, you know,” Bill said, and Severus could hear a hint of disturbing innuendo. Had he been speaking about Potter often? Perhaps.

“He has grown on me, I will admit that,” Severus said. “His mooning around the house like a spirit is far more pleasant than his strutting around Hogwart’s like a cocky bastard.”

“You like him, Severus,” said Bill, in an odd tone that Severus found hard to read.

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “I believe I may have a task for you, Weasley,” Severus said.

* * *

Remus had once thought being locked up all day with Severus in an imposing room full of books would be his idea of utopia. The reality of this charade though, was more a miserable limbo. He was trapped, feet away from the enticing sights and scents of Severus, fighting through budget sheets that caused him massive headaches. Even worse, though Severus liked and tolerated him as Bill, it was clear after about thirty minutes in Severus’s study that the man was simply gaga over Harry Potter.

Then came the request.

“Potter will not see me privately, but he will see you. I want you go to him and pass a message to him from me.” It had not been a question, just an order.

“What message?” Remus asked.

“Just this,” Severus said, the flush of his cheeks pronounced. “I may be in love with him.”

Remus felt his heart rise up in his throat, trying to choke him. Sensing Severus liked Harry was one thing, he realized. Hearing it stated in the bluntest of terms was quite another. The desire to scream the truth of his identity at him was overwhelming, but he swallowed his heart, and made himself picture the joy on Ginny Weasley’s face when she had first seen Bill return.

This was his punishment, for Bill’s death. It wasn’t supposed to be easy.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked Severus.

* * *

“No more of that talk, Fred. I mean it. Your constant joking just makes him feel worse,” said Hermione.

“He needs a witty fool around. You know better than anyone that laughter helps,” replied Fred.

Harry overheard his friends squabbling and produced a wan smile as he entered his sitting room, Draco close at his heels.

“Have you been waiting long?” Harry asked, addressing Fred and Hermione.

“Oi, Harry. Nah. Just thought you should know that we’re taking a turn through Harrod’s later. George needs a new set of trousers, and the autumn range is in. You know he’s such a fashion plate. We can leer at the Muggles. Care to join?” asked Fred.

Harry knew how hard the twins were trying to cheer him up. They just did not understand his need for solitude.

“No, thank you Fred. Tell George I hope he finds some new clothes.”

Harry overheard Hermione whisper, “I told you.” Fred gave her a subtle elbow to the side.

“We’ll have some Wheezes to show you next week, Harry. Will you want us to bring them? Invisible whoopee-cushions, you’ll never remember where you set ‘em!” Fred continued with a wink. He was like an eager puppy. Harry didn’t have the heart for it today. He lowered his head, glanced at Draco.

“Isn’t it time for a lager, Weasley?” Draco drawled, nodding his head towards the door. “You are not needed here.”

“I’ll walk you down, Fred,” said Hermione. “No need to be so rude,” she added, shooting a glare at Draco for his callous dismissal. Fred muttered something at Draco that sounded like ‘poncy git’ as he stalked out of the room.

“What did he say to you?” Harry asked Draco.

“It is not of importance. There is nothing those gauche twins can say to me that would cause me any concern.” Draco took a seat by the window and cast a quick glance at his reflection, brushing his pale hair out of his eyes.

Harry smiled. He had often thought about why it was that these two particular people, Draco and Hermione, now shared his life. His conclusions were simple. Hermione masked her emotions behind her intelligence, and Draco suppressed his beneath his sheen of narcissism. Either way, they both remained aloof and calm in the face of Harry’s grief, allowing him his space, never forcing him to do anything he was not eager to do. Draco benefited from Harry’s protection, and Hermione needed his friendship. It was a balanced, codependent threesome, and it held Harry together.

Hermione crept back into the room.

“Harry, there’s someone outside who would like to see you,” she said.

“Who?”

“It’s a bit of a shock really, we all thought he was killed…”

Uninvited, the door creaked open and a man stepped into the room. The glint of red hair on the tall lanky frame made Harry’s heart accelerate. It couldn’t be. Harry could not breathe.

“Ron,” he said, starting to rise.

“No Harry,” said Hermione in a low tone. “It’s Bill.”

Harry’s hands unclenched from the arms of his chair and he sank back, not bothering to hide his disappointment. His heart slowed its rapid pace.

“Bill,” he said. “Merlin’s beard, it’s fabulous to see you.” Harry rose from his seat to shake Bill’s hand. The resemblance to Ron was only in impressions. On closer inspection, Bill’s sharp, handsome features were not Ron’s broader, friendlier face.

“Have a seat, Bill, please. Hermione, Draco, can we have a moment alone? Perhaps one of you could bring us some tea?”

“Of course, Harry,” said Hermione, pulling Draco from his window seat by the sleeve and dragging him down the stairs. They could hear a muffled, “Watch it, Granger, you’re creasing the velvet,” from Draco as they retreated.

Bill spent the first few minutes recounting his tale of memory loss and recovery. Harry found it difficult to pay attention to what he was saying. He kept noting the little similarities between Ron and his older brother- the way their mouths curved up at the corners, the shape of their ears, a careless fluttering of their hands when asking a question. He had not seen the two brothers together in the last year of Ron’s life, and it was now clear that as Ron matured he had started to look more and more like Bill.

“Are you listening to me, Harry?” asked Bill at last, eyeing him warily.

Harry was startled out of his reverie. “Oh, my apologies, Bill. I am listening.”

“So, as I was saying,” Bill continued, a subtle smile touching his lips, “I’m now working with Sev…er, Snape, and he asked me to come and see you. To tell you something.” Harry could hear hesitation in Bill’s voice.

“What does Snape want now?” he asked with a sigh.

“Well, he wanted you to know,” Bill took a deep breath, “he’s in love with you.”

Harry froze, staring at Bill’s blue eyes, struggling to comprehend the words that had just been said.

“What?” he said. “In love with me?”

* * *

It wasn’t going too badly so far, although Remus wanted to reach out and hug James’s son to him and tell him who he really was. The crushing disappointment that he was not Ron hung over the room like a dense blanket.

After making Severus’s declaration, Remus sat back. Harry’s face had frozen stiff, his eyes glassed over in shock.

“What?” he said. “In love with me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t love him,” Harry replied, as if this should be obvious to Remus already.

“Is that what you would like me to tell him?” Remus asked, already picturing the unpleasant scene with Severus.

“We’ve always loathed each other. How can he think he loves me?” Harry had stood and was pacing the floor. “I’ve hardly spoken with him in months!”

“I’ve told you all of his message. He seemed quite sincere. I could ask him for more detail if you would like,” Remus said.

“This is insane,” Harry wheeled on Remus, eyes blazing. “You think it’s insane, don’t you Bill? I don’t even know what to say. Good grief, what would you do if Snape declared his love for you?”

“What would I do,” Remus asked, taken aback, “if Severus proclaimed his love for me?”

“Yes.” Harry’s eyes were wild.

Panicked, Remus found himself faced with the question he had asked himself many times throughout his life. He began to mumble something incoherent, but Harry moved on before he was forced to answer.

“You must agree, that this is the strangest way to tell someone that you love them. Send your employee with a message? Did he even write a note?” Harry was pulling at his hair as he paced. “It’s not how you would do it, is it? If you loved someone?”

Remus smiled. “No, it certainly is not,” he said.

“What would you do, Bill?”

Remus thought for a moment, hoping to allow Harry time to calm down. “If I truly loved someone?” he asked. Harry nodded, and Remus allowed himself to think of Severus.

“Well, if I loved someone, as Snape loves you, I suppose I would tell them in lots of little ways, maybe just a touch of the hand, or a kind word or two, perhaps. I’d pay attention enough to know what they liked and didn’t like, and be there on good days and bad days. I would bind myself to them.” Remus closed his eyes as he warmed to his topic. “I would build a little cabin in my heart, and let a piece of me live there, with a piece of them, so that even if we were separated, we would be together, inside my heart. I would speak their name again and again, so that my words would ride the air, and find them wherever they were, and sing to them, even after years apart.”

Remus opened his eyes. Harry had quieted during this speech, resumed his seat, and was staring rather oddly at Remus, his lips just parted and his breathing slowed.

“That’s nice,” Harry said at last. “That would work better.”

Remus smiled again as he stood to leave. “I’ll ask Snape not to bother you anymore.”

“Thanks, Bill.” Remus thought Harry’s voice sounded rather weak as he left the room. That boy really had been through too much turmoil in his short life.

He turned to the stairs, steeling himself up for what was sure to be a miserable conversation with Severus.

* * *

Harry sat staring after Bill Weasley for several minutes before he rang for Draco. His heart was pounding, he was flushed, and Bill’s stirring descriptions of love had Harry fascinated. Bill had never seemed like a romantic when he had met him as a boy, but time had changed him.

“What do you think of Bill, Draco?” Harry asked, as his companion returned from the kitchen with a pot of tea.

Draco shrugged with his careless elegance and rolled his eyes. “Quite showy, I’d say. The hair is a bit much.”

“I liked him.” In fact, he wanted to see him again, soon.

Draco was distracted, sneaking a glance at himself in the mirror over the mantle, while Harry plucked the simple gold ring he always carried from his pocket and dropped it onto the side table. “Oh Draco, Bill must have left this,” Harry said in a loud voice, making sure Draco saw him pick up the ring. “It is Snape’s, but I do not want it. Would you find Bill, and give this back to him. Ask him to come by tomorrow and I’ll tell him why I have returned the ring.”

Draco looked at Harry as if he had lost his mind. “Why?” he sneered.

“Draco, just do it, please,” Harry said with a sigh.


	2. Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Remus had hoped to be friendly and charming with Harry, but it seemed he might have been a bit too successful._

“You do not need to follow me any farther. The stars are aligned against me, mate. Give yourself a chance,” Bill Weasley said to his companion.

“I vould not leave now,” replied Viktor Krum in a dismissive tone, stubbing out his cigarette. Bill frowned.

Two years of captivity in France had changed Bill. His hair had dulled, the bones of his skull were visible through his pale, almost blue skin, his lanky frame was gaunt and fragile. He felt like a shadow of himself.

Bill was still not sure he understood exactly why Krum had rescued him, or why he was proving to be such a loyal companion on his journey home. Whatever the reason, a week ago the warded door to his cell opened, and Krum, his Seeker’s body swathed in black, hustled him out into the blinding sun. Krum walked him out of the house in which he had been held in dark terror for two years, flashing some sort of distraction spell at any of the Death Eaters who approached them, led him away and quickly disapparated with him to a safe house in Paris. 

Krum had been rescuing the Death Eater’s captives for some time, it appeared, as his contacts were extensive. Every darkened alley in France seemed to hold one of his comrades, eager to clap Viktor on the shoulders, kiss his cheeks, and hide them for the night.

Bill came to understand that his rescue, in particular, meant something to Krum. It had to do with Krum’s guilt over taking the Dark Mark late in the war, feeling responsible for the cock-up with Remus at the Ministry when Bill had been captured, and a dramatic last-minute change of heart. It was hard to understand the details with the language barrier between them, but Bill sensed that rescuing him had been one of Krum’s motivations for rescuing prisoners at all.

A week of secret way-stations, hushed conferences, and long nights after his rescue, the two men had made their way to the French coast where Bill was preparing to apparate home. To England.

“You are a bloody hero for what you have done, Viktor” Bill said. “I cannot ever repay you. I don’t know what sort of chaos to expect when I return to the Order, but I know it’s not the sort of place a former Death Eater wants to find himself. I’m afraid that means we part ways here.” Bill clapped Viktor on the shoulder. “Goodbye.”

He pulled himself up straight and looked away from Viktor even as Krum said, “Bill, vait…” and turned abruptly to disapparate.

Landing on a patch of empty shoreline, Bill filled his lungs with the clean air of his home. Moments later, there was a loud crack, and Viktor appeared at his side.

“I know I vill be amongst enemies as a Death Eater, but I vill stay with you and see you safely home,” he said, in a tone that would not allow for argument. 

Bill smiled. He was surprised, but relieved to have a companion for this most difficult part of his journey. They turned together towards London.

* * *

“Weasley!”

It took Remus a moment to remember that he was the Weasley in question, and that the pinched voice was calling to him. He stopped and turned around.

“Yes? Oh, hello Draco,” he said to the approaching figure.

“You left this with Harry,” Draco said without ceremony, thrusting something gold towards Remus.

“I don’t believe I left anything with him,” replied Remus.

“Don’t be difficult. It’s Professor Snape’s ring. Harry says he doesn’t want it.” Draco grabbed Remus’s hand and shoved the simple gold band into his hand. “Take it back to him. Harry says you should come up tomorrow and he will tell you why he is returning it.” Draco’s thin face pursed in annoyance as he passed on this odd information. 

“You really are quite a watchdog for him, Draco,” said Remus, still holding the ring.

“When a bloke saves your life and continues to save you from Azkaban, you tend to treat his wishes as commands,” snapped Draco. “Will you come tomorrow?”

“I didn’t bring this ring to him, but I will come up to find out why Harry thinks I did,” he replied, curious.

“Well, whatever” Draco said, turning away and brushing off his velvet robes as if to remove the taint of Weasley, “I truly don’t care.”

As the thin blonde figure stomped back up the staircase, Remus pondered the gold circle in his hand. Harry wanted to see Bill again, and had invented some sort of charade with Draco to do it. Severus hadn’t sent any ring, and Harry knew it. He wanted Bill back, and wanted him to know it was a personal invitation.

Remus had hoped to be friendly and charming with Harry, but it seemed he might have been a bit too successful.

* * *

“No progress with Harry today, I take it?” asked Ginny.

“Nah, Malfoy guards him like he’s a diamond squeezed straight out of his own arse,” said Fred, patting his long-suffering sister on the back.

Fred and George had stopped into headquarters to find Ginny and Hermione well into their second gin sling of the evening. They had hurried to catch up, sucking down lagers with vacuum-cleaner efficiency. Hours later, the four friends were not ready to call it a night.

“I hoped that with Bill home, Harry might start to feel a bit better. You know, one less person to mope about,” said Ginny.

“Doesn’t seem like it, Ginny, not so far. I’m so sorry,” said Hermione, refilling Ginny’s glass. “But you have Bill back, and that’s something, isn’t it?”

“Some thing, yes, but not The thing,” said Ginny with a sigh. “You still miss Ron don’t you?”

Hermione swallowed hard. “Every day,” she said.

“Well, that’s how I feel about Harry, only he’s just upstairs, refusing to see me,” Ginny said. “How do you cope, Hermione? You never seem too sad.”

“Oh, I cope,” Hermione said, and she held up her drink in a mock toast, and then took a long swig. Ginny let out a bitter laugh and did the same.

Fred frowned. “See this, right here, George? This is why we are needed. To keep the ladies from these ridiculous dramatics.” He shook Ginny by the shoulders. “Step back from the ledge!”

Ginny laughed and nodded. “Fine. How was your shopping expedition?” she asked the twins, leaning back from her drink. 

“Shopping? Oh, it was a riot, actually,” replied Fred, glancing at George with raised brows.

“You tell it,” said George, reclining with his pint.

They all settled back for the story.

“It started normal enough, found George some new togs, and bought myself a few pair of socks. The Muggles were in good form, so we sat on a bench to watch for a bit, see if any product ideas came our way. We noticed all of these Muggles tottering around in shoes that looked like absolute torture chambers, called ‘podiums’ or something of the sort,” said Fred.

“Platforms?” asked Hermione.

“Right, that’s it, platforms,” Fred continued. “So, once you start to notice, these shoes are everywhere, right? So our George becomes obsessed.”

“I’m short,” George explained. “I had to have a pair.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Oh no,” she said. “Those are…”

“Women’s shoes, yeah, we got that eventually. First, though, Georgina here selected his favorite pair…”

“Red, with a nice strap,” added George.

“…and a pink-faced, stuttering Muggle found him his size…”

“14 wide, apparently.”

“…and he stumbled around the shoe department in these things, howling in pain.”

“They pinched like a Skrewt, Fred…”

“We had an audience of Muggle shoppers, everyone was staring. This is when I started to think we were a bit off on our idea…”

“We were thinking of a line of heightening shoes at the Wheezes, you know, for Flitwick and the like…”

“Or you,” Ginny pointed out.

Fred grinned. “Nice one, Ginny.”

“Yes, I’m short, I’ve already admitted to it,” muttered George.

“So what did you do?” asked Hermione.

“What do you think?” replied Fred. “George pranced around a bit for the crowd, bought the shoes, and wore them home.” 

“Cast a bit of a protective spell on my ankles as we left the place though,” said George, as he lifted his long robes to reveal red vinyl platforms, open at the end to show off his hairy toes, straps circling his brawny ankles. “What do you think?” He winked at Hermione then, who broke down in hysterical laughter. Encouraged by her response, George stood and began a teetering tour of the kitchen, delicately holding his robes above his knees. Ginny and Fred joined in the raucous laughter.

“Who’s your tall lady friend, Hermione?” called Fred, leering at George as he strutted past the sideboard. 

“That’s Georgina, she’s quite a catch,” laughed Hermione, and Ginny whistled.

George teetered up onto the bench and then stepped up onto the long table, strutting back and forth striking poses as his admirers clapped and hooted and cheered for more.

“Take it off!” yelled Fred.

“NO!” screamed Hermione and Ginny at the same moment, and all four dissolved into drunken laughter, George plopping down on the table and the others collapsing onto the benches, holding their sides.

The loud bang of the door slamming against the wall announced the arrival of a fifth person in the kitchen. All heads turned to see who had interrupted them.

Draco stood in the doorway. He wore monogrammed green satin pajamas with a matching sleep mask that had been pushed back onto his head. His hair was disheveled and his eyes blazed with fury. He gripped the doorframe so hard his knuckles were white. 

Most noticeably, though, his face was covered in some sort of blue cream night masque.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on down here? Are you mad?!” Draco screamed.

“Malfoy, what is that on your face?” asked Fred through his laughter.

“I am trying to get some rest!” Draco continued, ignoring the question. 

“Did we interrupt your beauty sleep?” asked Ginny. 

Draco glared.

“I believe it is Sondra Svenson’s Smooth Skin Solution!” exclaimed George. “As advertised on the wireless.”

“You will wake Harry, you will wake Professor Snape, you will wake the bloody neighborhood!” Draco yelled, but he self-consciously touched the hardened blue masque with his fingertips.

“How does that tune go, George?” asked Fred, stroking his chin.

George began to sing, kicking up his red heels to the tune.

“Sun and age wear down a Mage,   
You’re marred by air pollution…” 

“Shut it, Weasley,” said Draco.

Fred, Ginny, and Hermione joined in then, swaying to the familiar jingle. 

“Don’t fret those lines, fight against time,   
With Sven’s Smooth Skin Solution!”

The revelers grabbed their drinks and raised a cheer, clinking glasses all around. 

Draco’s chest was rising and falling in angry huffs. “You lot of ungrateful rubbish, you will be sorry for this. I will tell Harry how rudely you treated me. You idiot twins don’t even live here. Go home and sing to your stupid party tricks, why don’t you. Oi, Weaselette, can’t you see Harry doesn’t give a troll’s left nut if you are here or not? You’re a pathetic little girl. On the other hand, here’s my lovely sidekick Granger, playing the modest housekeeper by day, and then getting roaring drunk and waking all the household at night. Aren’t you the image of perfection. I see why Weasel, the fantastic git, fell for you. Only a bloody idiot could stand you. I’ve put up with you all long enough. Harry doesn’t need any of you here. Expect to be kicked out tomorrow. I hope you all rot!” He slammed the door and they could hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs.

“What an arrogant prick,” Fred said, as a loud slam announced Draco’s return to his own room.

It was Hermione though, to the twin’s surprise, who snapped. “I cannot take him anymore,” she said with a frightening intensity, pounding her glass on the table. “Day and night, primping and sulking and insulting all of us. I try to understand why Harry keeps him here, but honestly, I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of his superior attitude. He needs a reminder of where he stands in this house. I’ve had an idea, and I am ready to set it in motion. Can I count on all of you to help me put that little ferret in his place?” Hermione's eyes blazed fury.

“Whoa, Hermione!” said Fred, eyes wide. “I don’t know what has happened to you, but I like it!”

George lay across the table and planted a kiss on Hermione’s lips. “Whatever your plan, I’m with you, you fireball.” 

Hermione grimaced, shoved George over, and stood up. “Ginny, we need parchment and a quill. Start thinking about the most humiliating things you would like to see Draco do. He acts high and mighty, as if he doesn’t care for anything, but I happen to know his weakness, the one thing he does care for, and now it is time to exploit it.”

“What is his weakness?” asked Ginny.

“Simple. It’s Harry,” said Hermione

The twins’ eyes met. This was going to be good.

* * *

Severus tried to focus on the intelligence report from Kingsley, but found he was reading the same paragraph over and over again. Bill’s appointment with Harry had come and gone the day before, but the damn accountant had not appeared in the study yet this morning. Where was that idiot? The gnawing longing he had been feeling would soon be at an end. He gave up looking at the report and stood, pacing from window to door, and back again.

When the door eased open and Bill entered the room, Severus stopped and sat at his desk, heart racing pleasantly.

“Good morning, Weasley,” said Severus. He groaned inwardly at the eager tone in his voice, but Bill did not appear to notice.

Bill walked to his desk without pause, saying, “Good news or bad news?”

“Sorry?” asked Severus.

“Which would you like first, the good news or the bad news? I didn’t think you would be interested in small talk before I told you about Harry,” said Bill, still not meeting Severus’s eyes, settling in at his work area.

Severus took a moment to admire Bill’s insight. “Bad,” he said, leaning back in his chair, holding his breath.

Bill sat up straight and looked at the wall in front of him. “He doesn’t love you. He does not want to see you.”

“Ah.” Severus ignored the flash of light-headedness that swept over him at this stark announcement. “And the good?”

“He has invited me back today, so I will try again,” said Bill. 

“Oh.” Severus felt his eyes flutter slightly and his body sway. How had he failed to anticipate this? Potter had seemed so lonely. He had actually convinced himself that all the fool needed was an offer and he would be his. Humiliation washed over him, flooding his brain.

“Are you all right, Snape?” asked Bill, his voice far away.

Severus inhaled deeply, willing himself to focus and not get carried away by this ridiculous reaction. Under his desk, he pinched the fleshy skin between his thumb and forefinger, hard. He turned to Bill, who was looking at him with concern.

“Yes. Fine. That’s it then.” Severus sat up and pulled out a quill. “Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Remus could see, hell, he could feel, the disappointment radiating off of Severus in waves. He had decided short and brutal would be better than leaving him with any hope, but he hated to make anyone, much less Severus, feel so miserable.

They worked in a strained silence for several minutes. 

Remus glanced over to see that Severus had stopped writing and was staring blankly into space just moments before he spoke in his silky voice.

“You have been in love.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” Remus replied.

“The French woman,” said Severus.

“Um, yes,” said Remus, but he hadn’t really known Fleur, and wanted to avoid talking about her, as he was fairly certain he would not be able to fake it convincingly. “And others. Well, another.” Severus’s dark eyes flashed over to him. 

“Oh?” 

“No one you know,” said Remus, nervous about where he had turned the conversation.

“What was this paragon like?” asked Severus.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I just do.”

“Well,” Remus wracked his brain, but he had only ever loved one person, and his brain was not allowing him to think of anyone else, “a bit like you, actually.”

The deep frown-line between Severus’s brows became pronounced.

Remus smiled. “Dark hair, about your height, loved to read, had a very dry, biting sense of humor, and a strong dislike of idiocy,” Remus said. Severus sneered at this description of himself, and Remus was hit by the now familiar urge to give up his charade and tell Severus the truth. “It was love.” 

“Yet I notice that you are now alone,” Severus said. 

Remus had forgotten how cruel Severus could be when he felt vulnerable. He pulled himself back into character. 

“Thank you for polite reminder. Many things have happened since then, Snape: the war, my wife’s death, two years of amnesia. You never know what might happen to derail love. Life is complicated.” Remus turned back to his desk.

Severus was still and quiet for a very long time. 

Remus had started working again when Severus said, “That is true.”

“I will try again today with Harry, Snape. I promised you I would,” said Remus. “But if he does not love you, you should give it up.”

“I cannot. I cannot accept no as an answer.”

“You have to, Snape. Sometimes you just have to. Let’s say there is someone else out there in the world who feels the same way about you that you feel about Harry. You would have to turn them down, correct? They would have to accept no as an answer. Your heart is already given,” Remus said. 

“There is no such person, Weasley, so your example is pointless,” Snape said in a matter-of-fact tone. 

“But if there were such a person, who loved you, loved you more than their own life,” Remus’s voice caught in his throat, and he stopped for a moment to calm himself, “then you would have to admit my logic is sound.” 

“I refuse to participate in conjecture about a person that does not exist,” Severus replied, rising from his seat and approaching Remus. “When you return to Potter, offer him this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small green stone, smooth and glassy. Remus recognized it immediately, hoped that his face was not reflecting the horror he felt. “Tell him I will not be denied.” 

Remus lived the next few seconds in slow-motion, accepting the stone from Severus. It was the same stone he had been given as a token of commitment so many years ago, the stone that had been his, that had rested on his bedside table, when it wasn’t in his hand or his pocket, for years. As Severus passed the stone to him, his cool fingers touched Remus’s skin, and the shock of this touch made Remus dizzy. 

Remus wrapped his fingers around the stone, exploring the familiar curve of it in his hand.

“Will you do it?” Severus snapped.

Remus pocketed the stone. 

“I will,” he said.

* * *

Hermione burst into the kitchen, where Fred, George, and Ginny were busily cooking up a blackberry pie to share with the household.

“He’s found it!” she whispered. “Follow me! Quietly!” She dashed back out the door.

The three pie chefs exchanged glances and then sprinted out after her.

“The letter has already made a contemplative idiot of him,” Hermione said, intensity in her eyes, as they stacked up behind her on the stairs, peering down into the back hallway.

Draco was alone in the hallway below. His face was flushed, and in his hand he was clutching a parchment that by its crinkled appearance appeared to have already been read many times. He was pacing the hall, speaking to himself in an excited whisper.

“Be very quiet,” Hermione said, motioning them forward.

“Of course,” Draco murmured from below. “How could he not, after all.” He adjusted his elaborate, embroidered robe on his thin frame.

“This is rich,” whispered Fred, smirking.

“Shhh, listen,” said Ginny, craning her neck and nudging Fred.

Draco puffed out his chest as he spoke to himself. “When we are together, they will all have to listen to me. Me! No more pandering to the mudbloods and tainted plebians. I will be the master of this house, as I should be.”

George almost gave them away with a snort, but Draco was too occupied with his own thoughts to notice.

“Then I can put those damned Weasleys in their place,” Draco continued.

“Hey!” said Ginny, but Hermione quieted her with a touch to the arm.

“I’ll have them curtsying to me and wiping my shoes. There will be no more drinking at all hours, and no more open door to any riff-raff that would like to stop in,” Draco continued.

“Oh, let me knock this idiot in the head, please,” muttered Fred.

“We have to let him go on or the joke is ruined,” said Hermione, her finger to her lips.

“I won’t shake their hands, won’t fetch their tea.” Draco had moved in front of the hallway mirror, fluffing his hair and smoothing his robes, offering himself little smirks and winks. “They’ll all have to do what I say.”

“This is bollocks,” said George, but Ginny clamped a hand over his mouth.

Speaking to himself in the mirror, Draco exclaimed, “Ah, hello handsome, what’s this? A letter?” He held out the crumpled parchment. “For me? Why what could it say?”

“Here we go,” said Hermione, easing forward, eyes alight. 

Draco unrolled the parchment and proceeded to read it aloud, in a lilting tone, while pacing the hallway.

_Dearest Draco,_

_I have held this inside for so long, but at last I must be heard._

_Your presence in my life has been one of great comfort. Knowing a handsome, intelligent, powerful, and pure-blooded…_

Here Draco let out a small sigh.

_… wizard was here for me in my time of grief has been a great boon to my spirit. Draco, you are the reason I have been able to hold on. It is time you knew._

_You are my soul-mate, my one true love, my hero._

_I cannot face speaking with you about this in person, but I must know if you feel the same way. If you do, please show me. Here is how._

“Tell me what to do,” said Draco, and the watchers on the stairs exchanged wide-eyed glances.

_I cannot stand to have any more sadness around me, so I ask you to please, please smile, no matter how glum I appear, no matter how often I ask you to stop. It will cheer me. In addition, the more cheerful the people around me, the more I feel myself healing. I ask you to happily comply with any requests you receive from Hermione. It will truly please me to see the two of your working together as a team. On that same note, the house elves could do with some new knitwear. Please knit them a little something._

_However, with anyone besides Hermione, I expect you to be harsh and cruel. Keep everyone else away from me at all costs, so that we have more time alone together._

_Your yellow hair haunts my dreams, and if you would start wearing nothing but yellow, it would be as if your hair had multiplied and covered your entire body._

George’s snort here was loud enough that Draco paused briefly and looked behind him before going on. 

_Wear nothing but yellow, Draco, for me._

_As a great Muggle writer once noted: Some are born great,_

“True,” said Draco in a loud voice.

_Some achieve greatness,_

“Hmm.” 

_And some have greatness thrust upon ‘em._

“What?” he muttered. “Well, I liked the first bit.”

Hermione was holding a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. The wicked grins on the twins’ faces were not helping.

_You are truly one of the greats and together, great things will happen for us. Love, Harry_

“Some _are_ born great, Harry,” Draco said, looking at himself in the glass and smoothing his hair. “We will be together, as we are meant to be.” Gripping the parchment, and with a last glance in the mirror to smooth his eyebrows, Draco strutted down the hall and out of sight.

The group on the staircase dissolved into laughter. 

“I could marry you for this, Hermione,” said George, adoration in his eyes. “Your letter is brilliant.”

Hermione gave him a shifty look as she led them back down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Don’t make any declarations until you see what happens when he tries to impress Harry,” she said.


	3. Act 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“She wants to…to fight me? Over Harry?” he asked. He needed to sit down. “She’s my sister.”_

As the door to the study shut behind Bill, and Severus was alone again, he noted that there was a crushing pressure in his chest and his hands were shaking.

Giving away Remus’s green stone was an appropriate choice, he reminded himself. It was final. It was closure. Remus had not had a funeral, and there had been no chance for public mourning. He had simply been gone. Keeping the stone at his bedside had been Severus’s way of keeping him nearby, reminding him of what he had lost. 

Now it was time to move on. Giving the stone to Harry put that part of his life in the past. Remus would approve. He would.

He sat at his desk and picked up his quill, but he was not able to write anything for a long time.

* * *

Remus felt ill, even an hour after accepting the green stone from Severus, a slight nausea and dizziness that he could not shake. He kept the stone in his pocket, and let his fingers curl around it. It comforted him, just as it always had.

Fred was already in Harry’s sitting room when Remus arrived. He was alone and appeared to be waiting for something.

“Morning, Fred,” said Remus. 

Fred looked up with a bright-eyed smile and shook his head. “Still a bloody shock, every time I see you, Bill,” he said, and rose to give his brother a warm hug. Remus was reminded with a pleasant jolt why he was in this mess. He hugged Fred back.

“I know. It’s still a shock to be here,” Remus replied with a smile. “Are you waiting for Harry?”

Fred nodded as he resumed his seat. Remus sat down next to him. 

“Yeah, I come by and try to see him a few times a week. He’s still really broken up over Ron, you know. George and I sort of took it on ourselves to cheer him up. Hermione too. Harry’s forgotten, I think.”

“Forgotten what?”

“That Ron understood the need to have a laugh, even when times were at their worst,” Fred said. Remus nodded. “We’ve been trying to remind him.”

The door opened and Hermione and Ginny entered. Remus and Fred stood to welcome them.

“Hello!” said Hermione, and Ginny beamed at Remus and dashed over to give him a hug as well.

Over Ginny’s shoulder, Remus noticed that Fred had leaned in close to Hermione. “Any, um…sightings of the great yellow booby yet?” he murmured through his teeth.

“Not yet,” Hermione whispered mysteriously, and then continued in her normal voice, “Bill, Harry is coming in and asked me to be sure you were here. He wants to speak to you about something.”

“Yes. He asked me to stop by,” said Remus.

Ginny stepped back from Remus, her face suddenly stiff. “Harry invited you to stop by, Bill?”

“Yes,” he said. “Is that a problem?”

Her expression was confused. “He never does that,” she said.

Harry pushed open the door then, and the assembled group fell silent, turning to him. Harry’s hair was mussed and his tired green eyes swept through the room. They passed over Fred, Hermione, and Ginny and landed with force on Remus. 

“Bill, you came,” he said, and brushed past the others, nudging Ginny aside and walking right up to Remus. “I was hoping you would.”

“Of course, Harry.” Behind him, Remus could hear Ginny muttering something under her breath. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she sounded angry.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again,” Harry replied, his voice far more lively than the day before. He turned. “I’d like to see Bill alone please, Hermione. Shut the door, will you?”

With a shrug, Hermione silently ushered Ginny and Fred to the door. Ginny’s fists were clenched, and Fred looked disappointed, but Remus couldn’t help that. Hermione nodded her head slightly, giving Harry a curious look before shutting the door behind her. 

“Have a seat, Bill,” said Harry, smiling, gesturing to a small sofa.

“Thanks.” Remus composed himself on the sofa, in nervous dread of what was to come. “Did you want to talk about that ring?”

Harry was staring at Remus with intensity. The silence lasted a bit too long. “Hmm, um, yes, the ring,” he said at last. 

“Here it is.” Remus handed the golden band back to Harry. “It is yours, I assume?”

“It’s my dad’s wedding ring, I found it in their things, when I went back,” said Harry. “Sorry if I confused you, but I wanted to see you again.”

Remus smiled. “You couldn’t just invite me up?” 

Harry gave him a sheepish grin. “I suppose I tend to do things in a complicated way when they could be simple,” he said. “I think I might have learned that from Dumbledore.” His smiled for just a second longer and then his face clouded with pain. It was clear to Remus, in that brief moment, that Harry had not properly mourned for any of his dead. Even saying Dumbledore’s name brought him close to tears.

Uncomfortable, Remus changed the subject.

“Have you thought any more about Snape’s message?” he asked.

“No,” Harry said with a shiver. “I never want to think about him again, and I wish I knew a spell that would stop him from thinking about me. Please, don’t repeat any of that stuff.”

The fact that Harry wanted nothing to do with Severus gave Remus a little warm, calm feeling in his heart. However, his concern about why Harry wanted to see Bill only increased.

“All right. What do you want me to talk about then?”

“Well,” Harry moved a bit closer to Remus on the couch, “I was hoping you might want to just stay and keep me company.” His voice was soft.

Oh, it was far worse than Remus had feared. “What do you mean, Harry?” he said, swallowing.

“I thought you would understand, Bill. Didn’t you get my message? I sent the ring to you. To you,” Harry said, moving a little closer. “Yesterday, for the first time, I forgot to be sad. I felt happy, and it was because of you.”

“Oh dear,” muttered Remus, turning away slightly.

“I just want you to spend some time with me. Hermione and Draco are great, but they’ve never really cheered me up. All they can do is keep me from feeling worse. With you, I actually forget about Sirius and Remus and Dumbledore all of them. You even make it easier to forget Ron. I think you might be able to help me, Bill.” Harry reached out and put his hand on Remus’s and held it there.

“Harry,” Remus said, pulling his hand away and standing, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m happy to be your friend, Harry, but anything else….” He looked at his hands and sighed. Why was he always disappointing everyone he cared about? And bloody hell, was everyone in this house gay? “I didn’t mean to confuse you Harry, but I just can’t.”

Harry’s eyes dulled and his mouth pursed into a thin line. “I see, Bill. No, I understand.” 

“Should I go?” asked Remus, hoping to end the agony.

Harry nodded and Remus headed for the door, but was halted by Harry’s voice. “No, wait.” Remus stopped. Harry bit his lower lip and took a deep breath. “Nothing meant by it, but I would like you to stay for tea and a chat, if you would. Please. As a friend?”

Remus turned and looked at James’s son, forlorn on the sofa. “All right, Harry. I’ll stay.”

A weak grin passed across Harry’s face as Remus returned and sat in the chair across from him. 

“You must think I’m a pathetic clod,” said Harry, pulling the bell for tea service.

“It’s all been rough on you these years, I can tell,” said Remus. “Why don’t we just say you were not yourself just now.”

“And you are just back from the dead. Perhaps you are not yourself, either.” Harry smiled.

The statement made Remus grin. “I think you may be right. I am not what I am.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you any different,” said Harry, and his eyes gleamed with a startling passion and he jumped up and was suddenly kneeling in front on Remus, grabbing his hands. “I can’t do this, Bill, I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I have to say it. I think I might be in love with you. I can’t stop thinking about you and I cannot imagine you leaving this room right now and never coming back. I know you think I’m mad, but there it is. I can’t hide it.”

Remus looked into Harry’s bright green eyes, so like his mother’s, and wanted to crawl away and hide. “Harry, I told you already. I can’t. I’m…in love with someone else.”

Harry let go of Remus’s hands. “Oh,” he said.

“I need to go, Harry,” said Remus, hopping up from his seat.

“Wait, don’t leave. Bill. Hey! Didn’t you need to pass a message from Snape?” he called, desperate.

“I thought you didn’t want to hear any more from him,” said Remus.

“I’ll hear it from you,” said Harry.

Remus felt in his pocket for the green stone. His fingers caressed it.

“Snape wanted me to give you…,” he closed his eyes, letting the cool stone rest in his palm like a soothing balm, “…his warmest regards. He wanted me to tell you he still feels the same way.” Remus let the stone drop back into his pocket. It was his, after all. He dashed out the door and ran down the stairs, heart pounding. 

* * *

“I’ll not stay a jot longer, Fred,” said Ginny, storming towards her room on the third floor.

“Aww, Ginny, calm down. Don’t leave,” Fred said, trailing behind her, wishing George would appear and help him to calm her down. 

“Harry was nicer to Bill just now than he has been to me in two years. Bill! Bill, who has been back for one week! Bill, who he doesn’t even know! What am I still doing here?” Ginny muttered.

“I’m sure Harry is just glad he’s alive,” said Fred.

She spun around, almost tripping him as he skidded to a stop. “Do you want to make an ass of me, Fred? I look like an ass, waiting around for Harry to notice me again. I’m a joke.”

She spun back around and stomped off again in the direction of her rooms. 

“Maybe before you leave you should try once more, do something spectacular, something crazy, to remind him why he liked you in the first place,” suggested Fred, again following.

Ginny stopped in her doorway. “What do you mean?”

“Well, back at Hogwart’s you used to impress him with all of your hexes and your secret Quidditch skills and your duelling. Now all you do is sit around with us wankers and drink. Perhaps you just need to show off a bit, remind him of the Ginny he used to know.” Fred was shocked that he still had Ginny’s full attention. She really was getting desperate.

“You know who I want to hex right now?” said Ginny with a scowl. “Bill. Bill, the most wonderful Weasley, who can breeze in and have everyone adore him.” 

Fred considered this for a moment. “Well, why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?” 

“Hex him, challenge him to a duel or something dramatic like that. You know Harry will notice. He does like Bill. I wager he’d even want to see what happens. It’s brilliant, Ginny,” said Fred, eyebrows raised. 

Ginny’s face had curled into a skeptical frown. “Do you think…?”

“Couldn’t hurt to try, right?” Fred said in a cheerful voice. “Bill will go along with it.” He really wanted George’s second opinion on this idea, but Ginny seemed primed to fight now.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it Fred, but in the meantime, I’m starting to pack.” Ginny said.

“Don’t think about it, Ginny. Just do it. I’ll tell Bill you want to see him and to bring his wand. What do you say?” Fred nudged her with his elbow. 

She paused, one hand on the door to her room, and Fred watched various expressions pass across her face: doubt, frustration, interest, annoyance. The last though, was a look of intense anger. “Damn Bill! Fine. Set it up. I’ll be there,” she said, and slammed the door.

Fred did a little dance of satisfaction. Not only might this get Harry to notice Ginny again, but it would be quite a lark. He turned to go look for George and fill him in on the antics, only to realize that George and Hermione were dashing up the stairs towards him.

“George, you won’t believe what Ginny…” Fred started, but George cut him off. 

“Hold the Ginny report, Fred. Hermione, tell him,” said George, eyes sparking.

“I’ve just seen Draco,” said Hermione, biting her lip, visibly struggling to contain her glee.

“And?” said Fred.

“He’s followed every instruction, to the letter.” Her eyes were wide.

“The yellow?” asked George. 

“From head to toe,” said Hermione.

“The smiling?” asked Fred. She nodded.

“He has more smile lines that there are lines on a map. I’ve never seen anything like it. I could hardly stop myself from hurling something at him,” replied Hermione.

“He’s not done the knitting, surely,” said George.

Hermione grinned and beckoned them to follow. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

The twins exchanged a glance and then linked arms and skipped after her.

* * *

Bill and Viktor had walked or apparated short distances through England for two days. They were perfectly capable of simply appearing at the front door of Order Headquarters with a thought, but Bill asked that they take their time. Being out of his cell every morning was still a surprise to Bill, and he wanted to regain a bit more of himself before meeting his family again. Viktor nodded crispy to each of his requests, and remained staunchly loyal at his side.

Bill was terrified of what he would find in London. He had been captured during a war. Some of his friends would be dead, injured. Some of his family might be as well. He had no idea what they thought had happened to him. Waking in his bedroll on the morning of the third day, he decided he was prepared to find out.

“I think I am ready to go into London today, Viktor,” he said.

Viktor looked up from where he was crouched by their small campfire, cooking breakfast. “Good. I am prepared. I do not know vere is headquarters, so you vill need to take me side-along…”

“No, I’m not ready to just pop in to headquarters yet. Perhaps we can find rooms for the night and I’ll check out the scene a bit, see what I can learn before I knock at the front door.” Bill had been up late thinking through his plan. 

Viktor raised one thick brow and nodded, saying, “All right. That sounds vise.” 

After breaking camp, they apparated together to a safe spot they both knew near The Leaky Cauldron. 

Bill dealt with securing their rooms while Viktor sat as inconspicuously as possible in the far corner of the pub. He could be recognized here now, both as a Death Eater and as a Quidditch star. Bill knew how much he was risking to be his guard and companion. He could be sent to Azkaban. Viktor had draped himself with a deep hood and waited for Bill, cigarette dangling from his lips.

“I’ve got us two rooms,” Bill said, handing him a brass key. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go and take a look at headquarters on my own. I’ll just watch, see who is coming and going.”

“You don’t vant me to come vith you?” asked Viktor, taking a drag.

“Let me see who is there first. It would kill me if you’d come all this way and I led you into a house full of people who have it in for you, Viktor. I’ll just watch, and then come back and let you know what I find,” Bill said.

“I’d prefer to come, but I accept your vishes. I believe I vill leave this place and go for a walk. I vill not be recognized, amongst the Muggles.” Viktor said, stubbing out his cigarette. “Let us meet back here in two hours.”

“Agreed.” Bill and Viktor shook hands and went to stow their packs in their rooms before heading out.

* * *

Harry was pacing his rooms, trying to salvage some hope after his enormous gaffe with Bill.

He had sent an apologetic note with a request that Bill return and share the cup of tea that they had failed to get around to earlier. He had not heard back yet. 

“Draco!” he called. In his black mood, he didn’t think he could bear to see anyone but him. “Draco!” 

Hermione’s flushed face appeared at the door. “Harry,” she said. “Draco is coming, but, um, something seems to be wrong with him.”

“What?” 

“Well…” Hermione did not have a chance to finish, as Draco pushed open the door just then and strutted into the room.

The first thing, which was impossible to miss, was the yellow. His lemon yellow robes were criss-crossed with yellow sash and tan boot tips peaked out from under his hem. When he moved, Harry could see he was wearing trousers of a sunshiney shade and a small yellow cap rested on his blonde hair. He had a big canvas bag slung over his shoulder. It was yellow. He managed to be both blinding and washed out at the same time.

“Draco, what are you wearing?” asked Harry.

Harry looked at last at Draco’s face, which was pulled into an enormous, forced smile. “Do you like it, Harry?” he asked.

“Well, it is…different,” Harry said.

“I went shopping just this morning,” he replied and winked at Harry. The strange smile, showing all of his magically straightened teeth, did not fade.

“All right,” Harry replied with a crook of an eyebrow. “Come and sit with me, will you?” Draco took the seat opposite Harry, beaming at him. Harry frowned. “Why are you so happy today?”

“Oh, I think you know,” said Draco with an enigmatic shrug. A noise at the door distracted Harry, and he saw that Fred and George had joined Hermione in watching the scene from across the room.

“Well, you don’t need to smile. I’m actually feeling really awful today. I was hoping you would just…” Harry couldn’t go on once he looked back to Draco, whose smile, if anything, was bigger than before. He had started rummaging through the yellow bag.

“What’s in the bag?”

Draco reached in and pulled out a ball of bright red yarn and two knitting needles. A rather ragged looking bit of knitting was started on the needles. 

“I’m just learning, of course, but this should be a fine scarf for Kreacher, don’t you think?” Draco asked, his smile threatening to take over his entire face.

“You’re knitting a scarf for Kreacher.” Harry felt the need to say this out loud.

Draco started awkwardly clacking the needles together, as if to confirm Harry’s point. 

Harry glanced with a concerned look over towards the door, where Hermione, Fred, and George were all standing with their mouths slightly agape, staring at Draco. “Are you all seeing this?” he asked them.

Draco followed his gaze and noticed the three observers. He stood up, letting the ball of yarn roll across the floor, and moved menacingly towards them. “You heard him. Get out of here! Harry doesn’t want you around, he wants to see me. Alone!” He had dropped the perma-grin while addressing the group at the door, but when he turned back to Harry the glowing smile reappeared.

“Draco, what are you talking about? That is not what I said.” Harry rose to his feet.

“These interlopers give you no peace, Harry.” Draco whirled around. “Get out, you lot! Get out! Now!”

No one moved. Harry looked towards Hermione. “Is it a spell, do you think?” he asked her.

Draco’s face, when it turned back towards Harry, was frozen in a grin, but his eyes started to move nervously around the room.

“Could be,” said Hermione, her voice rather constricted. “I’d say we should get him isolated, just in case.”

“What do you mean ‘a spell,’ Harry? Some are born great, remember?” Draco said, a slightly desperate tone creeping into his voice.

Hermione moved towards Draco. “Draco, I want you to sit down, and not speak.”

Draco looked from Harry to Hermione for a moment, and then plopped down in a chair like an obedient puppy, his lips held firmly closed. 

This was more disturbing to Harry than all of the yellow clothes and knitting combined. Draco had never listened to Hermione, ever.

“I’ll take care of him, Harry. Don’t worry,” said Hermione. “Draco! Gather your things! We are going to go downstairs now!” she said, and Harry thought he heard a distinct snort come from the vicinity of the twins. Draco rose instantly, grabbed his bag and knitting, and followed Hermione to the door. 

“I think you should apologize for yelling at the twins,” Hermione said to Draco. 

For a moment, Harry thought he saw a hint of the normal, sneering, velvet-clad Draco come out. He glared at Hermione and glanced back at Harry as if to ask him something, but that moment passed and the bizarre smile returned. He straightened up and turned to Fred and George. “My apologies for yelling at you,” he said, and then turned back to Harry for one last broad grin before being ushered out the door by Hermione.

Fred and George followed Hermione, and Harry wandered out onto the landing, watching the deranged party walk down the stairs. He hoped that whatever spell Draco was under, Hermione could break it quickly.

* * *

Remus came upon Harry leaning over the banister looking down at something. He had received a contrite and sad note apologizing to Bill for being so forthright, and promising that his momentary madness and infatuation was passing. Remus was not sure it was the right thing to do, but he decided to go up and join Harry for tea. 

As he came up the stairs though, he regretted it immediately. Harry’s face erupted into an impassioned pleading expression, and he swallowed hard. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” Remus said aloud, and turned to leave.

“No, Bill, don’t go!” said Harry. “I meant what I said in the note!”

“Harry, this is a bad idea. I work for Snape. I’m only seeing you on his behalf.” 

“Bill, no,” Harry said, coming down the stairs towards Remus, “at least consider this?” He held out the gold ring again, James’s ring, the same one Remus had just returned.

“Consider what?” asked Remus.

“Will you wear it? It is a gift, from me.” Harry tried to hand the ring to Remus. 

“Harry, for the last time, no. I am not interested. Please, don’t make me say it again.” Remus turned and walked down the stairs. 

Harry’s voice carried after him, “Don’t go. Come back tomorrow, then? Bill!”

Stopping a flight down, Remus leaned against the handrail of the staircase, his breath short. What was going on in this crazy house?

“Oi, Bill!” It was Fred, running back up the stairs.

“Hello Fred,” said Remus, still reeling.

“Ginny wants to see you.”

“Oh sure,” said Remus, breathing deep, trying to calm down and listen to Fred. “Why?”

“She seemed right hacked off, Bill. She said for you to bring your wand.” 

“What?”

“That’s what she said. She was steaming mad that Harry ignored her and wanted to see you instead.” Fred said, patting Remus on the shoulder with a pained expression.

“She wants to…to fight me? Over Harry?” he asked. He needed to sit down. “She’s my sister.”

“I just pass the messages, mate,” replied Fred.

“I don’t want to duel with Ginny,” Remus said, although he felt this should be obvious.

“Well, I’m not sure she is going to give you a choice,” Fred replied. 

Remus considered the possibility that he might be at the receiving end of one of Ginny Weasley’s unique hexes. 

“I’ll get my wand, just for defence,” he said, and darted down the stairs. Fred followed.

* * *

Viktor’s walk had taken him into a residential Muggle neighborhood. Being in the city was a welcome change from his usual existence, hiding out in sheds and woods and secret rooms, rarely seeing the daylight. Several blocks from The Leaky Cauldron he pulled off his hood to feel of the sun on his cheeks. 

The houses in this part of the city seemed to be arranged in squares, with small parks in the center. They were modest, but Viktor was quite fond of the design. He chose a particularly average, but comfortable, square and sat down on a bench in the park. No one would recognize him here. It had been a long time since he had simply sat, without care for who his next contact would be, or where he would spend the next night, or whether he would be captured. He was mere hours away from fulfilling a promise he had made years ago, a promise he had fought long and hard to keep. 

Viktor kicked out his long legs, leaned back, lit up a fag, and basked in the pleasant afternoon.

* * *

Fred met back up with George and they had left Hermione to deal with Draco in the kitchen. Fred had finally been able to fill George in on Ginny’s planned duel with Bill.

“Brilliant,” said George. “Let’s go and get her ready.”

Ginny had, if anything, become more worked up since Fred had left her. When they found her in her room, she was brandishing her wand and muttering curses under her breath.

“Where is he?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

“Don’t have the foggiest, little sis. Let’s go and find him.” George bowed to her as he ushered her out the door.

* * *

Remus needed a break. He needed to get out of the house, away from Harry and Severus, away from Ginny and her duel. He took a swallow of polyjuice, grabbed his wand, and headed out the front door. Perhaps he could just spend an hour under the trees in Grimmauld Square Park. 

As he opened the front door, he heard footsteps on the stairs behind him.

“There you are! Bill!” It was Ginny, wand out, with Fred and George following behind her. 

“Ginny, I don’t want to fight you. I’m going out for a walk. Why don’t you just stay here and calm down and I’ll speak with you when I return,” Remus said.

“Fine,” said Ginny in a terse voice. Remus sighed and headed out the door and across the street. 

The rapid sound of footsteps behind him made him spin around. 

It was Ginny. She was running after him.

“Ginny, don’t…” She had already sent a hex towards him. He deflected it with a quick shield spell and backed into the park, where there was more cover.

“Ginny, we are outside in a Muggle neighborhood,” he hissed at her. She was circling towards him, her wand raised.

“I have been in love with Harry since I was ten years old, Bill,” she said, and another silent spell flashed towards him. Remus countered it and continued to move further into the trees, looking for an opportunity to disarm her. “Now he won’t even look at me.” Another spell illuminated the shrubs, and again, Remus blocked it.

The pounding sound of footsteps running towards them was a brief distraction, and Remus tried to hit Ginny with _Expelliarmus_. She dodged. George and Fred appeared, out of breath.

“I don’t want to fight you, Ginny. I don’t know why Harry is ignoring you.” Remus did know of course, but outing Harry in the middle of a Muggle park while dueling seemed a poor choice.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Ginny raised her wand to strike, when suddenly a deep voice from the shadows said _Petrificus Totalus_ and Ginny froze and collapsed onto the ground. 

Remus and the twins looked around, and a large man with a heavy brow, taller and broader than all of them by several inches, walked over. He was putting away his wand and looking at Remus with concern.

“Vhat is going on? Vhy are you in a duel?” He was addressing Remus directly. The man’s voice was heavily accented, and Remus felt like he had seen him somewhere before.

Fred and George looked the stranger in disbelief and at the same time said, “Viktor Krum!”

Suddenly the air was filled with the cracks of multiple apparitions. Remus spun around to see that their small group was surrounded my Ministry wizards. The air was filled with shouts of “ _Expelliarmus_!” and Remus’s wand flew from his hand. 

Kingsley Shacklebolt strode towards the now wandless Viktor Krum, and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come quietly Viktor, and I will not be forced to bind you.”

Remus looked around, dazed, and his gaze landed on Viktor Krum, who was staring at him with a pleading expression.

“Help me. Tell them. Tell them vhat I did!” he said. 

“You just attacked Ginny Weasley,” said Remus, confused.

The intensity of the look Viktor gave him was hard to take. “No, tell them about before, about rescuing you. About all I have done.”

“Viktor Krum,” intoned Kingsley, “as a known Death Eater I am placing you under arrest, on the authority of the Ministry of Magic. By using your wand within the city limits of London, you have identified your location.” Kingsley looked around at the group and gave each person a nod of thanks. “Thanks to all of you for helping us to apprehend this criminal.”

“Vhy are you letting them do this?” Viktor’s plea was again directed at Remus.

“Do you know me?” Remus asked, baffled.

Viktor’s face flushed red, his dark eyes flamed. “You deny knowing me, you ungrateful man? After all we have been through?” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” Remus stuttered, flustered.

Viktor spit on the ground at Remus’s feet. “I have brought you back here today only to find you vill betray me! May you rot, Bill Weasley. Hell is too good for you.”

“That’s enough of that,” said Kingsley, grabbing Viktor’s arm. “Thanks again to all of you.” He smiled, turned, and they vanished with Viktor. The other Ministry officials quickly disapparated as well.

It was quiet, except for the sound of a barking dog in the distance.

George muttered, “ _Finite Incantatum_ ,” and Ginny was able to roll over and pull herself to her feet.

“What the bloody hell just happened?” asked George, picking up his wand from the ground.

Remus hardly heard him. He had not been able to think or speak since Viktor Krum had last spoken. _Bill Weasley_ , Viktor had said. Viktor Krum had spoken as if he knew Bill Weasley, as if they had seen each other recently, that day even. _Bill Weasley._ Remus’s heart raced.

_Bill Weasley!_


	4. Act 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Professor Snape, thank god,” said Draco. “Get me out of here. It is dark and it smells of elf. I think I’ve been misunderstood.”_

During the confusing aftermath of Viktor Krum’s arrest, the fight between Ginny and Bill was put on hold. Bill wandered back towards the house, looking dazed, and Ginny, Fred, and George sat down in the park to discuss what had happened. Each of them had a different memory of the events, but all of them agreed that Viktor Krum looked quite dark and rather dashing, that the arrest had seemed fair, and that it was very odd that Viktor had pretended to know Bill. 

The three siblings returned to the house and reconvened in the kitchen.

“Um, Ginny?” said Fred, once they had settled down and opened a beer. 

“Yes.” She seemed calmer, but her wand still lay out on the table.

“You were really something out there.” Ginny smiled. “But, well, wasn’t the idea that Harry would watch your duel with Bill?” he asked.

Ginny’s face paled. “I forgot,” she said.

“We noticed,” George replied, and ruffled her hair. “You were really in the moment, though.”

“I want to finish it,” she said, knocking his hand away, her fingers touching her wand, “with Harry watching.”

The twins exchanged a glance and grin. 

“I’ll watch for Bill,” said Fred, “ and when I see him, I’ll give a shout. When I do, George, you run upstairs and get Harry. In the meantime, you can get started again with him, Ginny.”

“That sounds perfect,” Ginny said, taking a long draw on her beer. 

* * *  
Bill had taken his time getting to 12 Grimmauld Place. Although part of him felt ready to see his family, another part remained terrified of what he would find, so after leaving Viktor, he walked a rather circuitous route rather than apparate to the front door.

He turned into Grimmauld Square and the old house appeared for him, just as it had since Dumbledore told him of its location. He took it as a good sign that it must not have changed hands, might still be the headquarters of the Order. It looked quiet, although Bill thought he saw a brief movement in the first floor window. 

He intended to stand across the street and watch for a bit, to see who came and went, who was living there. He leaned against a tree on the edge of the park and crossed his arms to wait. Almost immediately, though, he heard raised voices that seemed to be coming from the direction of the house. The front door burst open and Bill’s heart leaped when he saw who emerged.

“Ginny!” he called, his voice tight. He began walking across the street towards her. They were there, his family. He felt buoyant and light-headed, tears welling up in his eyes. “Fred!” They were so close, after so long. He picked up the pace. “Hey!”

Something was wrong. They were not smiling at him, or shocked to see him, or any of the reactions Bill expected. Instead, Fred was shouting, “How should I know how he got back outside?” and Ginny was holding her wand in a dueling grip, pointed right at him. 

“What are you…?” Bill started to say, but he found himself hit with a silencing spell, followed in short order by a body bind. He was stuck upright on the pavement just outside the door to the house.

Ginny approached him, narrowed eyes glaring.

“Stay put. Harry will be down in just a moment, and I want him to see this,” she said, and with a flick of her wand, Bill felt the body bind tighten. It was hard to breathe. Struggling was pointless, but he tried anyway, to no avail. What was happening?

Trapped there, he looked at his siblings, baffled. Ginny had grown-up so much, tall and thin, her long red hair pulled back in a braid, her face angular. Fred also looked older, a bit broader and stockier than he remembered, freckles absolutely everywhere, eyes just like their mother’s. He couldn’t believe it was really them. What were they doing to him? 

Ginny’s wand swiped through the air and Bill felt the silencing spell release it’s hold. 

“Ginny…” he blurted, but she interrupted.

“You didn’t think you would get off that easy, did you?” she asked him. 

“What are you talking about? Ginny? Fred? It’s me,” Bill said. “I’m here.”

“Thanks for reporting on the world’s most obvious fact, Bill. Oh, by the way, I’m here, too,” said Fred with a snort. 

“I don’t understand what is going on. Is Charlie here? Or Mum and Dad?” asked Bill.

“No, why would they be here?” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “No one is here to rescue you from your little sis this time. You and your damn silky hair…”

She raised her wand just as the front door to the house opened again, and two more people came out onto the landing. Bill, Ginny and Fred looked up to see who had joined them. 

Bill choked back his frustration. “George!” he exclaimed, thrilled to see another brother alive and well, even in his current predicament, “and Harry, is that you?”

Harry’s eyes swept the scene. “What in the hell are you doing, Ginny?” he shouted, as he dashed down the stairs muttering _Finite Incantatum_ , releasing Bill from the body bind and stepping between him and Ginny. “Bill, I’m so sorry, are you all right?” 

As the spell ended, Bill fell against Harry, who draped an arm around his back to hold him up. 

Ginny had fallen silent and dropped her wand hand to her side in the face of Harry’s obvious anger. “Harry, I was just…” she stuttered, eyes down.

“Well, don’t, whatever it is you were doing. Stay away from me, and away from Bill,” said Harry with a fierce look and Bill felt himself being ushered up the steps on Harry’s insistent arm. 

“Harry, it was my idea,” called Fred from the doorway. “Don’t blame Ginny!”

Harry pushed Bill ahead of him up the stairs. “Where are we going…? I don’t want…” but Bill couldn’t get his thoughts together enough to even know what he wanted to ask. He looked back towards his siblings, standing forlorn on the step, watching them go. 

“What is going on?” he asked Harry at last.

“Let’s just get you somewhere where you can sit down,” said Harry.

Bill let himself be led up the stairs. Harry’s arm was tight around his shoulders.

They reached the upper floor and entered a pleasant sitting room filled with comfortable chairs and sofas. Harry guided Bill to a large sofa and sat him down, then took a seat across from him. 

Bill caught his breath and looked at Harry. He looked good, older, tougher even. Harry had been a boy when Bill last saw him, an awkward boy who stared at him with admiring eyes, but rarely spoke in his company, always hiding out with Ron. The past few years had thinned out his face, sharpened his features. In appearance he looked ten years older, not two. The green eyes staring at him in concern were pained beyond their years. Bill found the stare disquieting in its intensity.

“I’m here, Harry,” he said. “I came back.”

“You’re here.” Harry’s voice was soft with innuendo. “You were fighting for me.”

“For you? Do you know why Ginny attacked me…?” he asked, but that thought was drowned out in the fact that Harry had leaned in and was kissing him, rather passionately, his hands cradling his cheeks.

Bill pulled away from the kiss. “What are you doing?” he asked. He knew he should be shocked at this unexpected turn of events, except that his body was not cooperating with his brain. He had not been touched in over two years, his skin electrified at the kiss, and Harry was lovely, and hell, he was kissing him again. 

This kiss was longer and deeper, probing tongues and teeth, and Bill felt his body flush with desire. “This is crazy, Harry, I should try to see Ginny, settle all that,” he said, but his hands were running through Harry’s dark hair, pulling off his glasses. “I’ve just arrived, I have to…”

“She isn’t going anywhere,” said Harry, touching his lips to Bill’s throat. 

“This is crazy,” Bill said again, even as he felt the last ounce of common sense drift away in the feel of greedy hands unbuttoning his shirt and soft lips drifting along his collarbone. 

“You came back to me. That is all that matters,” murmured Harry into Bill’s skin and Bill melted backwards into the sofa, letting go, all others forgotten.

* * *

Severus received the owl from Kingsley in the late afternoon. Another Death Eater had been captured.

_I wish for you to preside at an initial hearing, Severus. We will transport the accused to Headquarters at ten tomorrow morning. Expect us then. Kingsley_

Severus stared out the window and wondered who had been caught now. 

* * *  
Hermione was running out of ideas. She’d had no idea that Draco would go along with “Harry’s” wishes for so long. Every time he seemed to hesitate at one of her demands, she dropped a quick word about telling Harry that he had quit, and he complied again in a moment.

Hermione told Draco that she thought he might be under a house elf spell, and ordered him to do some household tasks to break the charm. So far Draco had cleaned out the freezer, scrubbed the downstairs toilet, dusted and polished all of the house elf heads, mended Fred’s ripped cloak, tidied up Kreacher’s slag heap, thanked Kreacher personally for all of his hard work, and made Hermione a sandwich. He continued to protest that he was not under a spell, but nonetheless followed her every directive with effort, as the letter had instructed him. She was starting to feel a bit guilty. She knew Draco liked Harry, but didn’t know he liked him this much.

“Draco!” she snapped. He looked up from his knitting, yellow cap askew.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Into the cupboard,” she said. She needed Fred and George to help get her out of this prank. Draco needed to be out of the way while they figured out what to do.

“The cupboard?” he asked, deep furrows on his brow.

“Kreacher’s. Right there. Just stay put until I come to get you.” 

Draco gave her a skeptical look. “I thought you were supposed to be helping me break the ‘spell’ I’m under, Granger,” Draco said.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, Draco,” she replied. “I’m just going up to Harry to get his advice on what else to try.”

“To Harry?” Draco asked, and his eyes lit up just a bit. The guilt that had started to eat at Hermione took an enormous bite.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, grabbing his yellow arm and leading him to the small, dark room. 

“Why can’t I wait in the kitchen?” asked Draco, but Hermione couldn’t think of an answer to that, and just closed the door on him, casting a quick locking spell. She could hear Draco pounding on the cupboard door and shouting as she sprinted up the stairs to find Fred and George. 

The twins and Ginny were sitting on the stairs near the second floor landing. They all looked glum, and Ginny’s eyes were swollen as if she had been crying.

“What’s happened?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“Harry’s an insensitive prat, and we hate Bill,” summarized George, giving Hermione a weak smile.

“I have a problem, if you would like a bit of a distraction,” said Hermione. “If you are up for it, I really need you. It’s about Draco.”

All three Weasley faces looked at her in interest. Ginny sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

“How’s the giant canary doing? We’d forgotten about him,” Fred said. 

“Well, he has been very cooperative in doing every menial task I can think of for him to do, and shows no sign of quitting.” George let out a whoop and Fred and Ginny both grinned. “It’s pathetic, though, and the guilt is starting to get to me. He’s so sincere,” said Hermione. 

George gave her shoulder a playful punch. “Softy,” he said.

“Maybe, but I need your help to get out of the joke. How shall we do it?” she asked.

“We need someone he trusts to convince him that he has been under a spell and that he should return to himself, as long as he is a bit kinder to Harry’s friends from now on,” said Fred. 

“Draco doesn’t trust anyone but Harry, and we can’t tell Harry what we’ve done,” said Hermione.

“Well, that’s not entirely true, there is one other person he trusts,” said Ginny, “someone George can impersonate brilliantly, I believe.”

George’s brows rose. “You don’t mean…?” he asked.

“Snape, George. He’ll listen to Snape,” said Ginny. 

* * *

Bill woke wrapped up in the warmth of someone else’s body. For a moment, he could not remember where he was, or who he was with, until he brushed his hand along Harry’s back and the previous hours came back to him in a rush. He groaned and stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of his body. It had been well used.

Harry’s rooms had a small balcony that looked out over the neighborhood. Bill wanted some fresh air, and a moment to think. He eased away from Harry, who was still sound asleep, drained from their exertions, wrapped himself in Harry’s discarded robe, and walked out into the cool dusk.

This is the air, he thought, and that is the moon, and this is the ring Harry gave me. He twisted the gold band on his finger. This is real, although it seems mad. 

It had been well over two hours. Viktor would be worried. He and Bill had arranged a signal if they ever became separated. He found his wand in his discarded clothing, and sent off the signal towards The Leaky Cauldron, in hopes that Viktor would be reassured that he was safe.

Dark clouds had descended low in the sky, blocking the moon, and the wind was picking up. A first few drops of rain splashed against his warm skin. It was the first rain he had felt in two years. The tentative drips turned into a downpour, and Bill stood on the balcony, face to the sky, letting the cool rain soak him, rinse him clean. He was truly free, and home. He smiled and returned to the warm body waiting in the bed for him.

* * *

George didn’t bother to change or disguise himself, as they had decided “Snape” would talk to Draco through the door to Kreacher’s cupboard.

The four collaborators held a long conference in the twins’ room about what Snape should say to Draco. They were well lubricated by gin and lager as George practiced his Snape impression until it flowed easily off his tongue. It had been years since he had infamously fooled McGonagall into dropping his detention over voice-only floo using his Snape’s impression, and his imitation was still quite accurate. 

When they sneaked back into the kitchen, there was no sound coming from the locked closet. Fred shoved George forward, and Hermione and Ginny gestured for him to get going. 

George crept to the door and knocked.

“Who is there?” Draco’s voice was panicked.

“It is I, Severus Snape,” said George in a deep, dramatic tone, and shot a ridiculous smirk at the other three, who all covered their mouths to stop their laughter.

“Professor Snape, thank god,” said Draco. “Get me out of here. It is dark and it smells of elf. I think I’ve been misunderstood.”

“I have been told you may be under a spell,” drawled George. “I am here to assess your safety.”

“Professor, please ask Harry. He can explain all of this. I’m doing this for him. It’s not a spell,” said Draco, voice sincere. He was convinced. The imitation was working.

“Can you explain your improbable behavior this morning?” asked George. “I can come up with no theories, from my vast cranium, except that you are under a spell.”

Hermione mouthed, “Vast cranium?” and almost broke up George, but he kept his composure.

Draco’s voice was quiet but pleading. “Please, sir, believe me, I only need to speak with Harry and this will all make sense.”

“It will be best for all of us if you stay isolated for the evening while I conduct a series of tests around the house for signs of foul play. You may be contagious,” said George.

“Contagious? No! You are leaving me in here?” said Draco.

“Just for the evening. Hermione Granger is very worried about your sanity, Draco. She has your very best intentions at heart. When all of this is over, I hope you thank her for all of her efforts on your behalf, along with her friends.”

Hermione was waving her arms and shaking her head, trying to stop George. 

“If it gets me out of here, I’ll marry Hermione Granger, sir, but I am not under any spell.” 

“That remains to be determined, Draco,” said George, and they could hear a dramatic sigh from behind the door.

“Could I have parchment and a quill, to write a note to Harry?” asked Draco.

George looked to his companions for advice, a panicked expression on his face. Ginny and Fred shrugged, and Hermione opened a drawer and removed the requested items.

“Very well, Mister Malfoy,” said George, each syllable drawn out slowly. His imitation was beginning to get a bit over the top. 

“You sound like Dracula,” mouthed Ginny. George grimaced and pushed the quill and parchment under the door.

“Thank you, Professor,” said Draco.

“I will return in the morning with the results of my tests,” said George. 

“Fabulous,” said Draco, and the familiar sneer was back in his voice. “I’ll just curl up on these elf rags then….”

“Good night, Draco,” said George, and, desperate to escape before breaking into laughter, the four conspirators dashed from the kitchen and ran up the stairs.

* * *

Remus woke up to the sound of the wind banging the shutters against his window. The evening had turned grey and stormy, and his mood had followed. After the duel with Ginny and the bizarre appearance of Viktor Krum, he had retreated to his rooms to hide, his mind reeling from the events of the day. 

Every night, Remus locked his door and pushed a chair under the doorknob. The polyjuice wore off while he slept, and he could not risk someone accidentally stumbling in on Remus Lupin snoring in Bill Weasley’s bed. He kept a small vial of polyjuice within reach, just in case, and allowed his body to settle back into itself, scars and all. Like loosening dress robes after a formal occasion, it was always a relief.

He relished this time alone with his own body. He slept better in his own skin. Transforming once a month had been challenge enough. The extended use of polyjuice was exhausting to his already tormented physique. The full moon was a week away.

Being alone with his body also reminded him that he was just that-- alone. 

Rising into the cool night air of his room to latch the shutter, Remus noticed the house was completely silent. He was struck by a crushing sense of isolation. In this enormous house full of people, he was utterly alone. No one even knew he was here, not really.

Severus was only two doors away. 

It was late, so late it was early. Remus couldn’t face his empty bed. He leaned against his door for several minutes, heart pounding, his heightened hearing sensing no signs of movement. He held an internal debate for several minutes before nodding to himself and turning the lock.

Remus pushed open his door, peered out, and then crept on his bare feet down the hallway to Severus’s rooms. His door squeaked, but not loud, and Remus slid through and closed it behind him. He took a moment to marvel at how much Severus had mellowed since the end of the war, so much so that he would leave his bedroom door unlocked.

Severus had latched the shutters to his room tight, and it was very dark. Remus stood still, trying to control his rapid breathing, and allowed his eyes time to adjust. After a few minutes, he could just make out a lanky shape under the white sheets. Severus had always been one to take over the bed if given a chance, lying on his back and stretching his long limbs in odd diagonals that made fitting in beside him a challenge. The utter familiarity of his sprawled body on the bed was like a punch in the gut. 

He only intended to look, to see Severus with his own eyes, not Bill’s, but somehow Remus found himself approaching the bed and then lying down in the small empty space next to Severus, being careful not to touch him or disturb the bedding. The smell of Severus surrounded him, and he drank in his hard, careworn face as he slept. Just for a minute, he told himself.

A gust of wind pounded by the window. Severus groaned at the noise and rolled over, his arm flopping onto Remus. He settled back to sleep. 

Remus felt he might dissolve into the mattress. Severus’s face was inches from his, his arm a warm pressure. He could feel his deep, even breaths, see every dark eyelash. If he reached his fingers out, he could touch his wide lips. 

Somehow, thinking about it meant doing it, and his fingers trailed across the rough mouth. The stray arm tightened around him and the sleeping Severus whispered, “Lupin,” in his dream voice, that old midnight voice that was only for him.

Hearing his name demolished Remus’s last ounce of control. His lips followed his fingers, against his will, just a light touch, just a taste, and when Severus shifted and moaned and was suddenly, aggressively kissing him back, Remus wasn’t able to stop. His body wouldn’t obey. He wanted the kiss to go on and on, needed it to. His hands tangled in Severus’s hair, pulled him closer. Severus’s eyes remained closed, his body pliant. He was not really awake. 

There was no way to know where the moment would have taken them, but a blast of wind rattled the shutters and jarred Remus back to himself. He didn’t know where he got the will to break off the kiss, huffing and terrified and madly in love, but he did, and then threw himself off the edge of the bed, making an enormous thump. He held still, hidden from view on the floor.

The thump woke Severus from his state of half-sleep, and he let out a breathy shout. Remus could hear his heavy panting, could imagine the confused and dazed look on his face as he surveyed the empty bed.

“Lupin,” he said quietly, to the air. “Remus.”

Somehow, Remus was able to remain still and quiet as Severus rolled over and his breathing slowed back into sleep. He crept out of the room and lay in his bed, wide-awake all night, listening to the wind.

* * *

In the morning, as he woke, Severus automatically reached towards his bedside table for the green stone he had kept there for the past two years.

It was gone.

His eyes snapped open and he glanced around the room, the memory of his dream vivid. He could almost feel the warm lips on his, sense the rough hands in his hair, smell the musk and sweat of the wolf. He’d thought he was past all of this, had moved on. 

Moved on. That thought reminded him where the stone was now.

“Potter.”

He wanted the stone back, immediately. His heart thudded in his chest. He needed to speak with Bill.


	5. Act 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Now, sitting in the back of the hearing presided over by Severus, everything was only more complicated._

Severus had asked Kreacher to set up the little-used sitting room on the ground floor to accommodate the Death Eater hearing scheduled for the morning. He headed that way now to check on the progress, eyes alert for Bill. He was still feeling a bit disoriented due to his vivid dream about Remus, and was eager for the distraction the hearing would provide.

Severus was surprised to find that Bill was already in the sitting room, looking at some of the old Black family photos that continued to gloat and preen from the walls. 

“Mr. Weasley,” said Severus.

“Sev…Snape, good morning,” said Bill, startled, averting his eyes, a marked discomfort in his voice.

“What are you doing in here?” asked Severus.

“I heard Kreacher banging about and was curious to see what was going on.” Bill seemed to have regained some composure and he looked over at Severus by the door.

“Kreacher was tidying up, on my orders,” said Severus, annoyed with Bill’s snooping. “Another Death Eater has been apprehended, and I am to preside at an initial hearing here this morning.”

“Ah, yes. Viktor Krum,” said Bill.

“Is that who they have captured?” Severus snorted. He had been present when Krum had taken the mark, during the final weeks of the war. The boy had looked shaky, even then, and from what he had said to the Dark Lord, Severus guessed he had only joined up in order to redeem Karkaroff. His hearing should be uneventful. “He is not significant.”

“I’m sure Krum would disagree,” said Bill in a good-natured tone.

“I was looking for you,” said Severus, ignoring Bill’s commentary. “I need to know what happened to the green stone I offered to Potter. Did he accept it?”

Severus noticed Bill swallow hard before responding. “What?” 

“The green stone, where is it?” Severus asked, eyes narrowed.

Bill was silent, staring intently at a photo of Sirius and Regulus Black. 

“Weasley?” Severus prodded.

“The stone is…with your love,” said Bill, still looking at the photo. 

“I would like to get it back,” said Severus.

Bill turned towards him. “Would you?” he asked.

“I should not have parted with it,” said Severus. “Please retrieve it for me.”

Bill was looking at him with an intense expression that Severus could not interpret. He was tempted to probe his mind, but decided against it. Legilimancy was a dangerous skill to use with personal acquaintances, as he had learned the hard way; it was not always a good idea to discover what your colleagues truly thought of you.

“I will try…” Bill started, but was interrupted by the door opening. Severus turned as Harry entered the room. He felt a rush of embarrassment that quickly translated to anger. He had not seen Harry since Bill had told him of his rejection, and did not wish to see him now.

“Good morning, here you are,” said Harry. He was talking to and smiling at Bill, as if he did not even see Severus standing there. 

“Potter. What are you doing downstairs?” Severus said. He winced at the harshness of his voice.

“You know, I just felt I could face it today,” said Harry, head cocked to the side, still smiling at Bill. 

“That’s fantastic, Harry,” said Bill, a pleased expression on his face. He looked back and forth between Severus and Harry.

“It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?” said Harry. Again, he appeared to be addressing only Bill, his voice soft.

Watching this exchange like a spectator, a sliver of suspicion slid into Severus’s heart. Harry was being overly solicitous of Bill, almost flirtatious. Severus clenched his fists.

“Quite,” Bill replied, again, looking at Severus as if to include him in the conversation. “I’ve been out for a walk already.”

Harry’s expression became puzzled. “When would you have had time for that?” he asked.

Bill replied, “I went out just after I woke up. I didn’t sleep much last night, and I needed some fresh air. The square is so clean after all of the rain and wind last night.” 

As Severus watched, Harry moved towards Bill, brought his hand to Bill’s cheek and said, in a tone that could not be mistaken, “I didn’t sleep much last night, either.” He brushed a kiss onto Bill’s lips. Severus felt the sliver in his heart sharpen to a cruel point, his guts twisting into a knot, blood rushing to his face.

“What is this?” Severus shouted, hearing his own voice enter the shrill, uncontrolled tone that he despised. Bill had pushed Harry’s hand away and stepped back. 

“Severus, I don’t know. Harry, what are you doing?” Bill said, wiping the kiss from his lips. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry. “Snape will find out soon enough.”

“Find out what, Weasley?” Severus felt himself nearing the edge of rage. Bill, whom he had trusted as his emissary, had instead won Potter for himself. This was insufferable.

“Find out what, Harry?” asked Bill, staying arms length from Harry. Severus wasn’t fooled by his coy act.

“About last night, of course. About us,” said Harry, moving closer.

“Harry, what are you talking about?” asked Bill, backed almost into an antique armoire. 

“Yes, why don’t you illuminate us both, Potter? What are you talking about?” Severus retorted. 

Harry was not able to respond, however, as a loud knock at the front door announced the arrival of the delegation from the Ministry. All three men spun towards the loud sound. With a glare, Severus swept from the room, letting his robes speak eloquently of his anger. Once in the hallway, he calmed his breathing, regained his composure. He needed to be an impartial judge now, and this adolescent drama would have to wait. His heart slowed, but the twisted feeling in his gut did not ease. 

Kingsley and three young Aurors were at the door, accompanying Viktor Krum, who looked exhausted. The dark circles under his gray eyes gave him a malevolent air, and he walked hunched over as if in defeat. Severus was surprised. There really was very little he could be held responsible for in his short time as a Death Eater, and his imprisonment was likely to be short. Perhaps Kingsley had not informed him of that fact.

With a twitch of the head, Severus lead the group into the sitting room, and found that Harry and Bill were still standing there, staring at the door he had exited moments before. 

“We’ll speak more later. Are you both staying for the hearing?” he asked, wishing the two of them would walk out the room and out of his life and never return, so this disaster could be behind him.

Bill said, “Yes, I’ll stay,” at the same moment Harry said, “No, we’re going upstairs.” Harry looked at Bill for a moment, and then they both took seats along the wall as the Ministry group entered the room. 

* * *

Remus could not believe it. He had fooled himself that a night away from the bizarre events of the previous afternoon would sort out whatever the confusion was regarding Harry and Viktor Krum. 

Now, sitting in the back of the hearing presided over by Severus, everything was only more complicated. 

Harry had kissed him. Harry had made it seem as if they had just spent the night together. Harry had used this fact to hurt Severus. Remus felt ill, and clutched at the green stone in his pocket. He knew it was real, even if nothing else made sense, and Severus wanted it back. What did that mean?

Remus was tempted to flee to his room again, but here was an excuse to watch Severus at work, something he had rarely had a chance to see. If Harry wasn’t sitting next to him, moist, confused eyes peering out from his mess of hair, this might almost be fun. Could Harry be under a love spell that made him delusional?

As the Ministry officials walked in with the prisoner, there was a bit of a commotion.

“Zere he is, ask him! Please!” It was Viktor Krum, and the guards were holding him back from bolting across the room towards Remus.

Severus, seated at the ornate desk that had been moved to act as a judge’s bench, called for silence. 

“I will not tolerate outbursts during this hearing, Mr. Krum,” said Severus, in his silkiest tone. If he wasn’t so tense, Remus thought he would melt at the sound. 

“I apologize,” said Krum, still straining towards Remus as the Aurors lead him to a chair placed in front of the desk, and forced him down into it.

“Please, sir, may I speak?” Krum asked Severus.

“You will be given the opportunity to speak when it is appropriate,” Severus continued.

“Sir, there is a person in this room who can prove that I am redeemed, that I am not a bad man or a loyal Death Eater, if only he vould speak for me,” said Viktor in a bitter voice.

“Who is this person?” asked Severus, taking notes on a parchment.

“He is there, Bill Veasley,” said Viktor, pointing at Remus. 

Remus blanched. 

“Mr. Weasley?” prodded Severus, but Remus could only shake his head.

“I have been vith him for over a week, we vere in France together. I spent months planning his rescue. I saved him from a Death Eater prison. I come here at great personal risk, I made a promise to his wife, before her death,” Krum continued.

Remus continued to shake his head in denial. What was Viktor Krum talking about? They had never met before his surprise appearance the day before. How could he…?

“Now he is denying even knowing me! I charge him vith falseness. He is a very horrible man and should be punished for all of the lies he tells me,” Viktor continued, spite spilling out of him. 

As Viktor spoke, a thought, an improbable, incomprehensible thought, occurred to Remus, a thought that would explain all of the bizarre occurrences, if it were true. It couldn’t be, he thought. This was just his sleep-deprived brain playing tricks. 

But they never did find his body…

“Wait,” Remus said, standing. “Just a moment. May I ask a few questions, Snape?”

After a moment, Severus nodded.

“Mr. Krum, you say you have just rescued me in France?”

Viktor sighed in relief, his body relaxing into the chair. “At last, yes, he is remembering.”

Remus turned towards Harry. “And you, Harry, you spent last night with me?”

There was a bit a murmuring amongst the assembled group at this statement, but Harry lifted his chin and said, “Yes, I spent the night with you.”

Remus couldn’t bear to look at Severus after that pronouncement, but he turned towards the judge’s desk and kept his eyes down. 

“Snape, I have a theory, a very odd theory, about what might be happening here,” Remus said, glancing at his watch. “I’d like to speak to you about it in private…”

Remus was interrupted mid-sentence by the loud bang of the sitting room door being thrown open. Three bizarre-looking figures hurtled into the room, one shouting, “Help,” another, “M’aidez,” and the third sputtered an incomprehensible garbling that sounded like, “Huduma nous!” They slammed the door shut behind them, all winded and obviously being chased.

Everyone in the sitting room jumped to their feet, wands drawn. 

“Ginny, Fred, George! What is wrong?” Remus asked. Their hair was green.

“How did you get in here…? What…? Huh?” said Ginny, staring at Remus as if at a ghost, and looking behind her into the hallway. “Did you apparate? You were just…”

The door crashed open once more, another figure entered, and Fred fainted.

* * *

When Bill awoke, Harry was gone and the morning was far advanced. A renewed pang of anxiety about Viktor stirred him from the warm sheets. He was also ravenous. The full moon was coming.

As he pulled on his clothes, Bill wondered where Harry might have gone. They had not spoken at all during the night, apart from voicing some very specific requests and pronouncing the effects of other actions successful. He grinned at the memory. He still knew next to nothing about his family, his friends, or why his sister and brothers attacked him. He did, however, feel quite refreshed and invigorated. 

He pulled on his Muggle street clothes, which he found scattered about the room, and headed downstairs to find some food.

As he reached the second floor landing, he could hear the sounds of an approaching group of people, and recognized familiar voices in the group. It was Ginny, Fred, and George, walking up the stairs towards him. 

He peered over the banister to see that his sister and brothers were carrying several boxes and chatting. They had not heard him coming. He hunched down to observe. 

“…wanted to show them off before taking them in and opening the shop. They’ll sell well, for sure,” Fred was saying.

“We’ve tested them all, and they come in five languages now, with Cantonese and Italian on the way,” said George.

“May I try one?” asked Ginny. 

“Ten knuts,” said Fred, holding out his hand, and Ginny mimed elbowing his gut in annoyance. “Okay, okay. For you, on the house,” said Fred, in mock pain.

George cracked open one of the boxes he was carrying, and pulled out a lollipop. Reading the stick on the sweet, he said, “This one is French.” Ginny reached for the candy.

Watching from the stairs, Bill pulled his wand out of his pocket. This was the perfect opportunity for a bit of brotherly payback for the unprovoked attack the day before. He sneaked down a few steps until he was within clear striking distance, and shouted, “Proculos!” with a firm flick of the wand. 

The boxes in Fred and George’s hands flew open and dozens of small lollipops soared out and towards their mouths. One lodged in George’s mouth, and four or five made to into Fred’s mouth before they had dodged. 

“Merde!” shouted George, spitting the lollipop to the ground. “Bill! La bas! Ah, le français!”

Fred and Ginny turned as Bill fired of his next hex, “Crudus,” and all three of his siblings’ hair turned bright green. 

“Tu as nywele verde!” said Fred, and he grabbed at his throat, spitting lollipops everywhere.

“Quoi?” asked George, grappling for his wand, dropping the boxes of candy to the ground.

“Punctum,” Bill said, flicking his wand again, and Ginny shrieked as freckles started to multiply all over her arms. 

Bill walked down the stairs, holding his wand at the ready, and the three stricken victims stared up at him. “My young Weasleys,” he said in a cheerful voice. “I have been an older brother for as long as I can remember. It is my job to be better at all of this than you. You don’t think I would really take being hexed lying down did you? Or did you forget what it’s like to have me around?” He raised his wand, grinning from ear to ear, and started firing off more hexes.

Ah yes, he was home. Fred, George, and Ginny dashed down the hall. He chased them down the stairs, past Hermione, who stuck her head out of the kitchen to see what the ruckus was, and she joined in the chase, shouting for help. 

“Just wait until I tell Charlie how you welcomed me home. He’ll want a piece of you too,” Bill called out, grinning. His siblings ran ahead of him and ran through a door, closing it behind them. 

“Trapped!” he yelled teasingly, and pushed open the door. 

* * *

“Finite incantatum!” The feel of the hexes on him being lifted jolted Fred awake.

He came to with George and Hermione leaning over him, and heard two distinct voices shouting, “Bill!” and another shouting, “Sit down, everyone!” He sat up. George helped him to his feet. 

The room was frozen, every eye in the place fixed on the mystifying image of two identical Bill Weasleys, standing across the room, staring at each other. 

“What the fuck?” said one Bill, looking amazed, standing near the door, the wand that had recently been hexing Fred, George, and Ginny held before him.

“Which is Bill?” said a deep, heavy voice, and Fred looked over to see Viktor Krum’s tense face.

“Viktor!” said the same Bill, “thank god you made it here. I hope you received my signal last night.” This Bill looked towards Harry. “I was…delayed.”

“You know me?” asked Viktor. 

“What are you talking about? Of course I know you,” said Bill, staring at the other Bill. “Viktor, why is there someone here that looks just like me?”

“I do not know,” said Viktor, accusing eyes turning to the other Bill.

“None of us know,” said Severus, looking back and forth with his glittering eyes. 

“I can’t tell them apart,” whispered Fred to George, but George elbowed him. 

“No, wait, look carefully Fred, Ginny, just look,” said George. The assembled group turned their attention to the Weasley siblings. Fred followed George’s gaze, and looked closely at the two Bills.

George was right. There was something about the one Bill, the one who had hexed them. Maybe it was the way he held his chin at a bit of an angle, maybe his wide stance, legs spread, maybe the hint of rakish grin touching his lips, maybe the earring, dragon-tooth, as always. What convinced Fred, though, were his eyes, a confident and devious gleam so familiar it hurt. The other Bill, standing across the room, looked like a dull shadow in comparison. Seeing the two of them side-by-side, Fred was surprised that any of them had been fooled. 

“Do you see it too?” asked Ginny.

The twins nodded. “That’s Bill there,” Fred said, pointing at the man in the doorway. “That’s really Bill.”

“You are bloody right I’m me,” said Bill, “but who the hell is that?”

All eyes turned to the other Bill Weasley, who looked as if he wanted to melt into the carpet. The Aurors took a few steps closer to him, wands drawn, but a subtle hand signal from Kingsley kept them back.

The fake Bill didn’t move, but looked at his watch and took a deep breath. “Just a moment, and all will be sorted out,” he said, and looked at Severus. “I’m sorry about this.”

* * *

Remus’s body, well, Bill’s body, would not move. He could only stand, and watch the disaster unfold before him.

No, not a disaster, Bill was alive. He was alive and standing there, staring at Remus, cocky turn to his hip, single eyebrow crooked. Remus wanted to run across the room and hug him, wanted to shout his joy to the sky, “I didn’t kill you!”, but he was trapped. He had to repeat it again to stay calm. Bill was alive, and in another minute, unless he sipped polyjuice, he would be alive too.

This was not the plan, Remus thought, but then again, he’d never really had a plan, so this would have to do. It was rather a large audience for him unmasking, but at least Severus was there, alert and wary at the front of the room. 

“Has this phony been here for long?” asked Bill, pointing at Remus.

“Someone of your description arrived here approximately a week ago,” replied Severus. 

“A week ago?” Bill said.

“When did you get here, Bill?” Ginny asked, her voice shaking.

“Yesterday afternoon,” he said.

There was a silence and Remus watched the faces of those in the room as they tried to process this new information. 

“There has been some sham Bill Weasley imitating me for over a week?” Bill said again. “That’s just fucking weird. What’s your story, other me?” He didn’t sound angry, just disturbed and curious. Remus breathed a little easier. He looked at his watch again. He only had about a minute left. He needed to start explaining. 

Remus took a deep breath and let words flow out. “I thought you were dead, Bill. I thought it was my fault. I just wanted to bring you back, help your family, to make amends for my mistakes,” said Remus. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Who are you?” That was Severus.

A panicked voice behind Remus said, “Yes, and…um…where were you last night?” That was Harry. Remus looked at Harry, who was ghostly white, looking back and forth at the two Bills, arms wrapped protectively around himself. 

“You know me, or most of you do. I’m a friend,” Remus said. He reached into his pocket and wrapped his hand around the green stone. “I’m your friend.” This he said directly to Severus, and he pulled the stone from his pocket. 

The first tingles of transformation started, and Remus took a deep breath. This was it. He locked eyes with Severus as the unpleasant stretching and pinching of transformation took hold. 

It didn’t take long, and the room stayed quiet, watching. Remus could sense the moment he was recognizable, could see the moment mirrored in Severus’s eyes. His expression, usually so controlled, transformed into pure, unconscious wonder. Severus swayed slightly and grabbed at the edge of the desk. Remus felt his own body take over, his own heart accelerate in his chest, his own eyes tearing up. It was very quiet. Remus didn’t look away from Severus, and Severus didn’t look away from him.

It was still and quiet for a long moment.

“Remus?” said Bill, from behind him. “Remus?” Remus could feel a hand on his shoulder, realized that Bill was hugging him. 

“Professor Lupin!” That was Harry’s voice. He was also hugging him. “We thought you were dead. What are you doing here?” 

Remus was staring at Severus.

* * *

Severus knew, somehow, just before the transformation began, when the false Bill looked him in the eye. He knew. He knew it was Remus. The logical part of his mind, the part he cultivated and listened to and prided himself on, laughed at this folly, but the feeling overwhelming. He was certain. The transformation progressed, and each feature slowly resolved into that face, that face from his dreams and his nightmares. 

All of the questions he knew he should be asking- Why are you in disguise? Why didn’t you tell me? Where have you been? Why did you leave me?- all faded into irrelevance at the sight of that face, those lips, still full, that hair, still straggling into his eyes. 

It was not real. He felt himself sway. His eyes, Remus’s eyes, never left his face.

* * *

Remus couldn’t breathe, couldn’t respond, could only bask in the naked emotion blistering off of Severus. He could hear other voices uttering confusion or welcome, but they faded away, and all he could see was Severus, and all he could hear was his own breathing. The world narrowed to the two of them, all else falling away. Somehow, one of them, or both of them, walked towards the other, and they were face to face, and Remus felt Severus’s hand reach up and touch his hair, brush over his lips, run along his jaw, tentative, testing.

“You are alive.” 

“I’m alive.”

“You are real.”

“Yes.”

Remus reached out to take Severus’s hand, and realized that the green stone was still clasped in his hand. Severus touched the stone and looked at Remus.

“I couldn’t give it to him. It’s mine,” said Remus. He wrapped his arms around Severus, pulling him close, wanting to press into every part of him, buried his face in his warm neck, felt long arms encircle him, hold him hard. It was real, he was real, and home, and himself. Remus could not hold Severus close enough. He didn’t know how they would ever let go.

After a minute, Harry’s loud voice interrupted them. “Whoa, you two are a couple? When did that happen?” This statement almost made Remus laugh out loud. 

“When was that, Severus? 1975?” Remus asked, brushing a lock of dark hair from Severus’s face.

“February 5, 1975,” said Severus, his voice low.

The joy Remus had been holding back burst free at this comment, and he threw his head back and laughed, a free, full laugh. Severus’s arms tightened around him again. Remus pulled his fingers through Severus’s long hair, couldn’t imagine ever standing out of arm’s reach again.

Remus’s laughter seemed to free something up in the assembled group as well, and a chorus of chatter and questions and shocked exclamations broke out around them. Remus could hear them all as a vague background to the pounding of his heart as Severus wrapped him back into an embrace, murmuring, “You are not dead, you are not dead,” into his hair. 

Eventually, one comment broke through the chaos to catch Remus’s attention. “So, um,” Harry said, “which of you was…um…last night…?”

Bill smiled. “That was me.”

Harry let out a long breath. “Oh, good,” he said. “No offense meant, Professor.” 

Remus grinned, turning a bit so that he and Severus were side-by-side, arms around each other. “Oh not at all. I told you I was in love with someone else.” Remus almost fell over as Severus buried his head in his shoulder, whether to hide a smile or tears, Remus didn’t know. It was the most euphoric sensation Remus had ever experienced.

Harry approached Bill. “So…you… only arrived yesterday?”

“Yeah, right before we…you know…had mind-blowing sex,” said Bill, elbowing Harry in the ribs. “Quite a welcome home, I have to say.”

“So you never…sat and talked with me about love?” asked Harry, blushing, eyes darting through the room to see who was overhearing this conversation.

“No, Harry, that was me,” said Remus, feeling for Harry’s predicament.

“So, the person I thought I loved was you,” said Harry to Remus, “and the person I slept with was you,” he said to Bill.

“Sounds that way, mate. Sorry about that,” said Bill. “I had no idea.”

“Neither did I,” said Remus, trying to stay focused as Severus’s hand worked its way to the back of his neck and rubbed. “I was trying to tell you to forget about me.”

“I know you were.” Harry turned to Bill. “I suppose we are not soul mates, then,” he said. 

“I don’t reckon,” said Bill. “It was a fantastic night though.”

“It was just a one off,” Harry said.

“Well, a three off, to be accurate, but pretty much,” said Bill with a devious grin. “Here, take this ring back. That will be for someone more important someday, I’d imagine.”

Harry took the ring, and his face shifted into a worried frown. “Where is Draco?” 

* * *

Draco was huddled in the dark closet, having curled up in the tattered elf rags for a few scattered hours of sleep. Kreacher had come back in the early morning, and abused Draco for the next few hours with a string of muttered curses for taking his bed and invading his space. Draco never thought he would hear the phrase, “Filthy pureblood,” spit with such venom.

He had gone over the events of the last two days over and over. He knew all he needed was to see Harry, and all of this misunderstanding would be set aside. 

He had also been formulating a variety of scenarios for revenge against Hermione for locking him in this dungeon. That thought was keeping him going. 

He just needed to see Harry. 

* * *

Swept away in the dramatics of the moment, Hermione suddenly looked to Fred and George when Harry asked about Draco, her expression panicked. “I forgot about him,” she mouthed, and dashed from the room. Fred bit his lip, and looked at George. This could not end well.

A minute later, the door opened again, and Draco, a yellow blur, flew into the room. Hermione crept back into the room behind him.

Draco looked terrible. His yellow robes were filthy, the sash loose and dragging. His face was smudged with what looked like coal, and his hair hung loose and greasy in his face. His gray eyes were squinted, as if the light hurt his eyes. He shielded his face with his hand and scanned the room. Once his eyes lit upon Harry, he dashed forward and threw his arms around him. It did not seem as if Draco had noticed anyone else was there, or that conversation had ended as all eyes had shifted to him.

“Harry, thank god, help me, please,” Draco said, hanging off of Harry’s neck. “None of them believe me. They think I’m under a spell.”

Fred felt George grab his elbow and squeeze.

Harry grabbed Draco’s shoulders and pulled him up. “Draco, what happened to you?” he asked.

“I was locked in an elf cupboard all night,” Draco moaned.

“What?” said Harry.

“I was only doing it all for you,” Draco said.

“Doing what?” asked Harry.

“What you asked,” he said, arms hanging limply at his side. 

Harry paused, took a deep breath. “Draco, I did not ask you to do any of the things you have been doing.”

Draco’s eyes were wild and he scrabbled through his pockets, pulling out a tattered parchment. “You did!” he said. It was the letter. The hand gripping Fred’s elbow tightened, and Hermione moved to his side. They were done for.

Harry took the parchment and read it while Draco watched, expression hopeful.

“Draco,” Harry said with a sigh, “I didn’t write this.”

It was horrible to watch. Draco’s composure utterly collapsed. A flush of bright red crept up his chest and into his pale face, and his expression was of absolute horror. 

“I know this handwriting, however,” said Harry, shooting a glance at Hermione. Fred and George both averted their eyes. 

Draco followed his gaze and his expression took on an added element of embarrassed fury. He looked around the room at the assembled group, grabbed the letter back from Harry, and ran out of the room. 

Fred felt George relax his iron grip on his arm. Harry shot a nasty glance their direction, and ran out after Draco.

George threw his arms around Hermione from behind, and she leaned back against him.

“We’re in trouble,” she said. 

“Yeah,” George replied, brushing a hand through her hair, “but it was worth it.” Fred grinned at them and then noticed-- they looked good together.

* * *

Harry caught up with Draco partway up the stairs.

“Don’t speak to me, Potter. I’m going upstairs to pack my things,” Draco said, his voice tight, face still glowing red.

“What are you going on about, Draco?” Harry ran after him, grabbing at his sleeve.

Draco shook Harry’s arm off and turned on him. “Don’t ‘Draco’ me. I am leaving.”

“Wait. Listen, please, don’t…” said Harry, laying his hand on Draco’s arm.

Draco paused and looked at the hand resting on his sleeve. He folded his arms with a snort, but appeared to be listening. “What? Don’t be humiliated? Don’t be furious?”

“Listen. Listen.” Now that he had started, Harry took a moment to compose himself. “I didn’t write that note, Draco, but don’t leave. I want you to stay.”

“Perhaps I don’t care what you want,” snapped Draco.

Harry took a breath. “You know, Draco, yesterday, I was miserable. Life felt lost, meaningless. I couldn’t stand to see anyone, speak to anyone, do anything. There was only one person I wanted to see.” Harry said.

“Bill Weasley?” asked Draco.

“No. You.”

Draco’s face pulled into a skeptical frown. Harry continued, “Ask Hermione, ask anyone, I was asking after you, looking for you. Only you.”

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” said Draco.

“I doubt that. Look at what you were willing to go through for me. You did all this for me, yes?” Harry gave Draco’s haggard appearance another look.

Draco did not respond.

“Doing for someone else, that’s a new one for you, I think?” Harry smiled, and Draco pursed his lips. Harry softened his tone. “You are the one who has been there for me, you’ve held me together, kept me going for all of these years.” 

Draco’s expression had relaxed to a pout. “Are you having me on?” asked Draco.

In reply, Harry took Draco’s hand. “No, I’m not,” he said, and he brought Draco’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “My loyal Draco. I had no idea how you felt about me.”

Draco was very still, his eyes nervously seeking Harry’s. Harry could sense his fear of embarrassment, his doubt. After a moment, Draco shifted his hand in Harry’s so that their fingers could interlace. The silence between them was thick with questions unasked and thoughts unsaid.

“Now what?” asked Draco.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not going anywhere. Are you?”

Draco looked Harry in the eye. “No.”

Harry allowed himself a smile. “Good. Then I say we just wait and see. Might I suggest dinner this evening, as a start? To make up for what appears to have been a rough day yesterday.”

Draco ran his free hand through his hair.

“All right,” he said.

“Now I believe you should go upstairs to bathe and sleep. You look awful,” said Harry, squeezing Draco’s hand and letting go. Draco nodded and started up the stairs.

About halfway up, he stopped and turned back to Harry, eyes narrowed. “I’m going to take revenge on those nitwits, you know, at some point,” he said.

“I wouldn’t blame you one bit. Perhaps I’ll help,” said Harry with a wink, and Draco actually showed a hint of a smile before turning and walking up the stairs.

* * *

When Harry returned to the sitting room, the mood was somber. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked the person nearest to him, who happened to be Hermione. 

“Bill didn’t know about Ron,” she said, touching his arm, “or about Molly and Arthur traveling in Asia, or about Percy’s new job, or about anything. He’s a bit shocked.”

Bill was sitting with his head down, Severus and Remus talking with him gently. Harry and Hermione sat, and watched from a distance.

After a few minutes, Bill motioned to Viktor, who stood and approached the group. More discussion followed, with quite a bit of exaggerated arm movement by Viktor, and eventually Severus stood and shook Viktor’s hand. 

“Looks like Viktor has made a deal,” said Hermione.

Harry turned to her. “You will have to explain that letter you gave to Draco, you know,” he said. 

“I know,” she replied. “Believe me, I was pushed to my limits to take such drastic action.”

“I assume you had help,” Harry said.

“Of course.”

“He will get back at you all, you know,” Harry said.

Hermione thought for a moment. “I’m sure you are correct, Harry. I am sorry to have dragged you into it.”

“It’s all right. I think I might end up thanking you for it.” Harry kissed her cheek and wandered off to check up on Ginny, who was sitting alone in the corner.

“Ginny,” he said.

“Harry. This has been quite a day, hasn’t it?” Her hair was still tinted a faint green and her face was pale. Harry sat down next to her.

“Ginny, I’ve been horrible to you,” said Harry.

She looked at him. “Harry. No, I’ve been pathetic. I let pining over you turn into my life.” Ginny lifted her chin and looked out at the room. “Well, that is over. I’m looking for a flat, starting today. I’ll be by for visits, but I need my own life now.”

“Good for you, Ginny,” Harry said, and then added, “You know I’m gay, yes?”

“Yeah, I got that when you announced you’d shagged my brother,” Ginny replied.

“Caught that, did you?” he said with a smirk.

“I can read between the lines.”

Harry leaned over and hugged her. “I still treated you like shite, and I’m sorry.” 

“Thanks,” she replied. “Now go on and sort out who the hell you went to bed with these last few days, eh?” 

She shooed him away and Harry left her, returning to Hermione and the twins for few more apologies.

* * *

Hermione and George suggested that they all move into the kitchen for some food and drinks, and the sitting room emptied in favor of gathering around the large kitchen table. Beer flowed, cold cuts and rolls were passed, and the mood became almost celebratory. 

The hearing was officially called off. Bill’s testimony to Severus had been more than enough to show that Viktor was no longer a threat, and he had been released. Kingsley and the Aurors joined the celebratory lunch in the kitchen, along with everyone else. 

Harry disappeared upstairs for a bit, and returned with a clean and subdued Draco, who was dressed in a simple blue velvet robe. Draco sat next to Harry, quiet and tranquil, and Harry seemed to be paying him a good deal of attention.

Bill was flirting with the three Aurors at the far end of the table. Ginny was sitting with him, leaning against him, her eyes closed, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, the protective older brother. Watching him, Remus realized he really had been a poor imitation of the man. Bill was vivid, charismatic, words no one ever applied to him. Bill was alive. He was alive. None of this was real to Remus yet, and he expected it would take some time to process all that had occurred.

Remus watched all this from his seat next to Severus. They had not been apart for a moment since his transformation. Even sitting at the table, they were always touching, fingers, arms, feet, hips, shoulders. If one of them needed to move, a new point of contact would be established somewhere else. Although he spoke to everyone in the room, often turned away from Severus, half of Remus’s mind was always focused on that touch, on the solid reality of the man next to him.

Remus had told the story of his past two years numerous times, trying to explain it all in a few concise words. After Hermione became the fifth person to start a conversation with, “So, when I spoke to Bill last week, that wasn’t Bill?” Remus was thinking about fashioning a badge that read _No, That Was Me_ that he could point to. 

“It was an utterly idiotic idea, you know,” Severus whispered in his ear. 

“I know.” Turning to Severus, meeting his dark eyes, Remus felt his stomach flip. He was aroused just making eye contact with the man.

“Sentimental as well. Pretending to be the man you had killed, for noble reasons,” Severus scoffed. “Typical.”

It was like no time had passed and a lifetime had passed. Remus smiled.

“Where did Potter and Malfoy get off too?” Severus asked. Remus had not noticed they were gone.

“Ah yes,” said Remus, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on his chin, “Harry Potter. We’ll have to talk about that little episode someday.” Remus gave Severus a devilish look.

“I insist we never speak of it again,” replied Severus.

“You insist, do you?” Remus nudged his hip into Severus’s.

“I was attempting to get over _you_ ,” was the reply.

“Oh, of course.” Remus smiled.

“My original question is still relevant.”

“Why do you care where they got off too?” Remus asked.

“Because,” said Severus, leaning in close to Remus, eye to eye, “if they managed to sneak away from this tedious celebration, then we can do the same.”

Remus’s cheek was warmed with Severus’s breath. He felt light-headed.

“I suggest one at a time would create less of a stir,” said Remus, breathless.

“My thoughts exactly.” 

As Remus sneaked out after Severus, he looked back into the kitchen. George had one arm slung over Hermione’s shoulder, Bill looked to be making an impression on the cute Aurors, while Ginny nestled in next to him, Fred, Viktor, and Kingsley were engaged in a intense debate of some sort. The room buzzed with life, with contentment, with moving on. He closed the door.

* * *

It took Remus a few minutes to locate Severus. He was not in his own room, or in Remus’s, but a muffled sound was coming from the closed door of the study. Remus smiled and eased the door open.

Severus was leaning over the antique Muggle phonograph, adjusting the volume. His thin, square shoulders were hunched in concentration, the black drapes of his robes hung in perfect folds. Remus stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching him.

Beethoven was playing.

“Ah, music, the food of love,” said Remus, leaning against the doorframe.

Severus looked up then, brows raised, eyes glittering. “Don’t be trite, Lupin.” Severus strode over to him, grabbed his hand, and led him into the room. 

He locked the door behind them.

 

 

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> Dramatis Personae
> 
> Orsino- Severus Snape  
> Viola- Remus Lupin  
> Olivia- Harry Potter  
> Sebastian- Bill Weasley  
> Sea Captain- Charlie Weasley  
> Antonio- Viktor Krum  
> Maria- Hermione Granger  
> Sir Toby Belch/Feste- Fred and George Weasley  
> Sir Andrew Aguecheek- Ginny Weasley  
> Malvolio- Draco Malfoy


End file.
